No Longer Human
by ImaSoBored
Summary: Phoenix tears. Basilisk venom. Forced to compete, they would kill Harry Potter from the inside out. But, thanks to a bout of accidental magic, he survives. He survives, but is irreparably changed forever. Reeling from the aftermath, Harry is confronted with, ultimately, what it means to be human. 2nd Year divergence.
1. Dying Or Not?

**Yo everybody! Welcome to one of my stories, ****No Longer Human**

**This story will probably cover the summer before third year at the very least, if not third year too at the most. I don't know at this point, depends on how long the "summer arc" is if I feel it can be sort of a prequel to a HP third year story or not.**

**For those of you who are readers of my other story, ****A Phantom Of A Titan****, I'm not abandoning it. My focus is divided between these two stories.**

**By the power vested in me I hereby declare this disclaimer to be valid for the entire length of this story and any sequels:**** I don't own Harry Potter!**

**Well, without further adieu…**

**Chapter 1: Dying… Or not?**

Harry Potter was dying. It was rather frank statement, yet no less truthful because of it. The world was fading before his very eyes. Colors were fading and lines were disappearing. Harry Potter was dying, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do to stop it.

He remembered rather blearily as he forced his mind to work past the sensation of hot lead racing through his veins that no human had ever survived basilisk venom, in any amount. The only variation in the amount of time that it took to kill someone was the amount of venom and health of the person. The less venom, the healthier they were, the longer they survived. The longest anyone had ever been said to survive it was three agonizing days. And that was when they only got a drop, with the person being in peak physical condition. Basilisk venom was easily the nastiest naturally occurring poison out there. Hell, many argued that it was the nastiest poison, period. It was corrosive, only able to be contained safely inside the basilisk itself within poison sacs, items very powerfully enchanted to mimic the poison sacs, and objects of extreme density, such as goblin made objects. Remembering this, it was nothing short of amazing that he was still alive, let alone that he still had the presence of mind to destroy the diary in the face of such pain, given the fact that he got injected with venom in both his arms. He hadn't wanted to take a chance that one arm didn't have the strength to drive the sword deep enough into the basilisk. So, when he drove the Sword of Gryffindor into the roof of the mouth of the basilisk, he had used both of his hands. And he had paid for it by having several fangs pierce his arms, one even having broken off in it. Said fang was then put to good use by stabbing the diary.

He turned his head painfully to left. There laid the body of the basilisk. It was alarming close to him. He could see where its eyes used to be, as well as where one of its fangs had broken off. He turned his head slowly to the right. Immediately in that direction he saw the diary, stained with ink-like blood with a hole in it. Next to it laid the fang. A little ways away from that he could just make out his holly wand from where Riddle had dropped it as he died. Beyond that, he saw the still form of Ginny Weasley. She didn't move at all, save for the steady rising and falling of her chest. That, combined with the color returning to her cheeks, assured him that she was still alive. That thought made him smile slightly. _'At least I managed to save her'_ He thought, slightly bitter about the whole thing. He knew he was dead. His body just didn't know it yet.

Suffice to say that thought brought on more than a little bitterness. He was brought out his bitter thoughts by a shrill cry and he saw something red wobbling toward him. It was Fawkes. After having gouged the eyes out of the basilisk, Riddle had retaliated with some kind of cutting curse, nearly taking the phoenix's head off in the process. It left a deep gouge across Fawkes's chest that trailed off onto her left wing, hindering her ability to fly and splattering the ground with blood with each odd little hop she was reduced to in order to travel.

She hoped over to him awkwardly, her left wing outstretched. Tears dropped from Fawkes eyes and a sizzling sound was heard as they impacted against the wounds on his left arm. Fawkes then repeated the process with his right arm. Harry watched with barely restrained amazement as his wounds healed right before his eyes. It felt weird, like a tingling sensation, as the wounds closed up.

At the same time, a warm feeling began to spread from his arms. It felt good, comforting even. Like what Harry imagined it would feel like being held in his mother's arms.

It didn't last.

All at once, the burning sensation from before returned and it was much, much worse than before. If it first felt like someone was boiling him alive from the inside out, then now it felt like they had dropped him in a vat of boiling oil on top of that. He arched his back, a scream tearing free from his lips. _'Phoenix tears have healing powers'_ He though, biting back a curse as it suddenly intensified. _'So why did Fawkes's tears healing my wounds just seem to make things worse?'_

Little did he know, the reason why things had gotten worse had more to with the fact that basilisk venom and phoenix tears were not the only things in his blood. When he had stabbed the basilisk and gotten his arms stabbed by its fangs, there was a split second while the great snake died that it had managed to hold itself in the air. During that second, copious amounts of blood had sprayed from the wound in the basilisk's mouth directly in his open wounds, resulting in trace amounts of basilisk venom and basilisk blood flowing through his veins. It was the basilisk's blood that ended up acting as a weak buffer of sorts, allowing him to survive a whole lot longer than he should've been able to with the amount of venom that was in him. Of course, he still would've died a slow and painful death regardless of the blood.

Then things got complicated even more unknowingly by the phoenix, Fawkes. When he had jumped onto Harry's chest in order to heal his arms, the blood flowing freely from the cut spanning from his chest to his left wing leaked into his wounds in a similar manor to the basilisk blood just a few moments ago, putting trace amounts of phoenix blood in his veins alongside basilisk venom and basilisk blood. Even mixing, there was really not really a problem there. The real problem came when Fawkes healed his wounds, adding phoenix tears to the cocktail of magical substances that had been mixed with his blood.

It was a real problem because the healing power of phoenix tears conflicted directly with the corrosive properties of basilisk venom. And the different blood types definitely just complicated the matter.

Harry, arched his back in pain, and another scream tore out of his chest as the ultimate form of death in the form of basilisk venom and the ultimate form of life in the form of phoenix tears fought it out in his body. The pain came in waves, synchronized with his heartbeat. Each time it came it was bad enough for his muscles to spasm, his breath to hitch. He felt more pain in his mouth and tasted blood, knowing that he had bit his tongue.

Fawkes's looked down at the boy in more than a little concern. Having been charged by Dumbledore to watch over the boy ever since the esteemed Headmaster had learned of the Chamber of Secrets and the threat of the basilisk within the walls of Hogwarts, she had grown slightly fond of the boy at watching him. Dumbledore had been more than a little concerned about the basilisk and had charged the phoenix with two things: find the basilisk and protect Harry Potter. She had succeeded in the first one and had even helped bring down the serpent, but it looked like she was about to fail in the second one. Fawkes had hoped that her tears might have been enough to save the boy. Indeed, at first it seemed that it would be enough. But then he got even worse than before. He was screaming in obvious pain, convulsing violently. Blood was leaking out through the corners of his mouth and he was losing color rapidly. And it was easy to see that he wasn't breathing right.

Due to being a phoenix, Fawkes knew instinctively that her tears could heal just about anything. Due to the amount of time spent around Dumbledore as well as her ability to understand both the written and spoken versions of most languages, she had come by the knowledge of just how deadly basilisk venom was. The only thing that had not been attempted to be used as anti-venom or cure for those who got the venom in them was phoenix tears. So she knew that there was a good chance that her tears could heal him where nothing else could. But she also knew that there was a chance that they could not.

Fawkes lowered her neck in shame. Her tears could not heal him of the venom. She had failed in her task to keep the boy safe. She watched as another scream tore out of his throat. As it died out, an idea came to her. An idea to, at the very least, ease his passing. Basilisk venom was arguably one of the most horrible and painful ways to die. Fawkes couldn't save him, nor could she take away all of his pain, but perhaps she might calm him by singing. It wouldn't save him, but it could ease the pain. Opening her mouth, she let out a low trill that built into a melody, then into a bird's song. A phoenix's song, to calm the hearts and ease passing.

Harry was dying. It seemed that phoenix tears reacted badly with basilisk venom. Sounds and images began flashing before his very eyes. Despite the pain and his own imminent death, he chuckled. _'I guess it's like they always say.'_ He thought, slightly amused despite the situation. _'Your life really does flash before your eyes before you die.'_

There it all was. The vague, dreamlike earliest memories of being held by a woman with familiar piercing green eyes and red hair, and a man with messy black hair. Then that blank spot in his memories, where all he knew was a flash of green light. Then life in the cupboard. The only foreseeable change was when the crib was exchanged for mattress. Being made an outcast at school by his piggish cousin Dudley. Learning to purposely get bad marks so as to not get yelled at. Learning to cook, clean, and otherwise care for the Dursley family as an unpaid servant. A monotonous, boring life as it was, but safe. At least, as long as his cousin and his friends were otherwise occupied and didn't have time for "Harry Hunting". At least as long as he behaved and didn't get sent to the cupboard without for the day with little if any food. At least as long as he didn't show any example of "freakishness" and have his beloved Uncle try and "beat the freak out of him".

Then everything changed when his Hogwarts Acceptance letter arrived. His Uncle's attempts to keep it from him, by first moving him to the smallest bedroom in the house, then physically leaving the house and moving to a hut. It failed with the visit of the kindhearted giant of a man, Hagrid, who personally gave him his letter and later took him to Diagon Alley to get what he needed to attend Hogwarts, with the addition of his first real birthday present in the form of his owl named Hedwig, and he returned to #4 Privet Drive, amazingly allowed to keep his new admittedly small bedroom, with the addition of a cat flap to push meals through and locks to keep him in if they so wished. He snorted at that memory. _'I could always leave through the window if I really needed to. Or at least until he put bars over it to keep me in. Guess I still could, considering the Weasley's tore them off with their car when I left.'_

After that came his trip to the Hogwart's Express through Platform 9 and ¾, befriending Ron on the train, fighting the troll and befriending Hermione, getting on the Quidditch team, getting his invisibility cloak for Christmas, discovering the Mirror of Erised, the whole Sorcerer's stone debacle. Then leaving Hogwarts to go back to #4.

What he collectively called "Dobby Incidents" which caused his friends to have to rescue him and had him at the Burrow for part of the summer, him to have to go back to school via flying car, and later setting a bludger on him. Meeting the famous Lockhart. Later finding out that famous Lockhart is a fraud. Discovering his ability of Parseltongue. The whole "Heir of Slytherin" thing. Using the illegal polyjuice potion. Hagrid going to Azkaban. People getting petrified. _Hermione_ getting petrified and the series of events that lead him to here, killing a basilisk, destroying a cursed diary, and saving the little sister of his best mate.

'_All in all, not bad.'_ He thought, half amused and half embittered. Ollivander had said that he expected "great things" from him when he got his wand. He would've snorted, if he was capable of doing little more than convulsing, screaming with the occasional curse thrown in, and breathing irregularly. _'How's probably being the youngest slayer of a basilisk? Granted I had extensive help from Fawkes, but still. Fawkes might have taken care of its eyes, but I was still the one to drive Gryffindor's sword into the bloody monster. Destroying one of Riddle's old cursed school things isn't half bad either.'_ If he was capable of it, he would've sighed. _'Ah well, I've pretty much living on borrowed time thanks to Mum's sacrifice. Guess it's time to pay it all back.'_

There was only one hope he had for salvation, that being phoenix tears and that had failed him. In his own mind he was already dead. All he was waiting for now was seeing if there really was a "light" that he would start going toward and after that he would get to see his parents again.

He was doing his best to control his convulsions and screams; amazed that Ginny hadn't woken up by now with all the screaming, and attempting to die with some modem of dignity when he heard a noise. Through tear filled blurry eyes, having become unable to feel most anything save pain, he only just made out the reddish orange form of Fawkes standing on his chest, amazingly seemingly unaffected by convulsions that should've thrown her off, as the bird began to sing.

It was absolutely beautiful.

There were no words that would adequately describe how the song sounded. If he had been watching Ginny, he would've seen her relax and smile in her sleep.

He didn't know how long he listened to it. He didn't think it mattered anymore.

But it did. As long as he lived, he would never even come close to any word in any language that he learned that would adequately describe what it truly sounded like. The one that came the closest in the English language would be beautiful. And it was so beautiful that he found himself wanting to live.

As he focused on that want, no _need_, to live, images began to flash before his eyes again. It was his life again, but edited to only the good parts.

He saw himself, happy as can be as he left the Dursley's. He saw him, discovering the trust vault left to him by his parent's with Hagrid. Getting his wand. Getting his beloved owl Hedwig. Him going through Platform 9 and ¾, boarding the Hogwarts Express. Seeing Hogwarts for the first time. Getting sorted in Gryffindor house, same as his parents. Catching his first Snitch. Seeing his parents, even if it was in a mirror. Winning the Quidditch house cup. Winning the house cup. Being freed from the Dursley's by the Weasley's and their flying car. Going to Hogwarts in the very same car. Laughing with his friends in the corridor at some joke Harry didn't even remember anymore.

As he listened to Fawkes song and viewed the happy memories associated, his will to live was solidified, and he felt a reaction within himself. It was both weirdly foreign, and strangely familiar. If he had better memory, he would have recognized it as being a lot like the warm feeling he experienced when he first held his wand.

Never the less, as the feeling intensified, the pain began to lessen. It started in the center of his chest, near where he imagined his heart to be. As he was contemplating this feeling, it suddenly intensified, painfully so. It spread from his chest like fire. Any onlookers would be treated to the sight of his body starting to glow a deep, fiery orange.

Fawkes looked on, perplexed as the boy under him began glow and heat up. Not enough to set anything on fire, mind you, but a definite contrast from the unusually cold he had been before. Now it felt like he had raging fever. Fawkes had no idea why this was happening. All she knew was that there was a good chance that Harry would live through this after all.

She tightened her talons on her robes, flames beginning to form on her as she readied herself to apparate herself and Harry, before stopping suddenly as a new thought came to her. _'I don't know what's happening to him, but I really don't want to know how apparition might affect it or it apparition.'_

Hopping over to the redheaded girl whose name she hadn't bothered to learn, she grasped her robes and a single flash of fire later deposited the girl into a bed in the Hospital Wing. _'Amazing that she can sleep through all that.'_

Returning, she saw that Harry had at last lost consciousness, which was a promising sign. It meant that it was likely that most of his pain was gone, thus allowing him to sleep. He was still glowing dangerously though, so she dared not approach him.

Leaving in another flash of fire, she apparated to where Professor Lockhart and the redhead she knew was named Ron were trapped. They were both startled at her appearance. She ignored their surprise and apparated them one after the other into hospital beds.

They looked around, confused for a second, before, upon seeing the girl redhead whose name still escaped her, Ron cried out "Ginny!" Scrambling out of his bed at an impressive speed, he shot at the redhead witch as fast as he could; picking her up with a hug, which finally had the effect of awakening her.

'_Huh. So that's her name.'_ She thought ideally as she went back to the Chamber. Still seeing a glowing Harry, she instead hopped over to where the diary and sword laid. _'I have a feeling that Dumbledore is going to want these.'_ Grasping the book by its spine and sword by its handle, she apparated and plopped them both on the Headmaster's desk, just as the twinkly eyed wizard himself came through the floo. Another apparition later and the Sorting Hat was next to them.

Not waiting for any sort of explanation and knowing that he would be able to tell what the book was, or used to be, she apparated back to the Chamber. She could see that the glow, while still there seemed to be fading. _'Whatever the bloody hell is happening seems to be about over._'

Not about to wait, she hopped over to where the boy's glasses had been tossed by his convulsions and grabbed them in her talons. Then over to where the boy's wand was, and, after a moment's thought, the fang that he had used to destroy the diary.

Flashing back to Hospital Wing, she deposited her items onto a bedside table next to the bed she already planned on sending to Harry.

Upon her return to the Chamber of Secrets, she saw that the glow had left, leaving in its place a very different Harry Potter. She could still feel a lingering magic about the boy, but it was impossible to tell whether that meant that whatever happened was still happening on some level, or if it was just lingering magical residue. Residue that could take days to fade, and even then there was a chance that it would always be there on some level.

Taking all that into consideration, she took a calculated risk and grasped the front of Harry's robes. She apparated back to the Hospital, depositing Harry into a bed next to a petrified witch with bushy hair and let out a loud trill in order to get Madam Pomfrey's attention as well as that of the newly arrived Dumbledore. The family of redheads that congregated around that Ginny girl's bed didn't seem to notice as the healer left them, having diagnosed Ginny with nothing but above average magical exhaustion.

Each rushed over, Poppy casting several diagnostic spells with a wave of her wand. "W-what?" She stuttered, puzzled when she got the results.

"What is it Poppy?" Said a very worried Headmaster Dumbledore. "He's alive, right?" He eyed Harry's still rising and falling chest, then did a double take when he saw the changes done to the Boy-Who-Lived. _'Just what happened down there in the Chamber?'_ He looked at his familiar as she disappeared in a flash of fire, no doubt going to start her cycle of rebirth early in his office to deal with the slash across her front. He sighed. _'Guess I'll get the memory of what happened in the Chamber later.'_

Poppy nodded. "He's alive, no doubt. And other than suffering from the symptoms of blood loss as well as the effects of malnutrition that I point out to you _again_..." Dumbledore sighed at the accusatory note at the word "again". What the Dursley's did to Harry was tragic beyond belief, but the blood wards meant that he still needed to stay there with them and if he came back from Hogwarts cured of malnutrition, he was afraid that they would react violently.

He was no fool. He knew the reason why Harry was a relatively shy, quiet, and well mannered boy. Why he attempted to contain his anger and his emotions until it burst out rather violently. Why he dressed like a pauper outside of his school robes in clothes that were a couple sizes too big and had holes and stains in some cases. Why he froze up like he didn't know what to do whenever somebody hugged him. If blood wards weren't the ultimate protection, he would've moved Harry to somewhere else.

Even now he considered moving Harry to Hogwarts full time or forcing the Dursley's to relinquish their muggle guardianship over him so that he might be adopted by another family. The Weasley's would certainly welcome him into their home and into their hearts, although Albus didn't want to push their already stretched budget and he didn't want to risk them trying to get their hands on the rather incredibly large fortune left to him by his parents. He knew they were good people but temptation affected even the best.

There were others that he would trust Harry with too, but there was no guarantee that they would get guardianship. The Ministry was corrupt and guardianship selection would most likely turn into a competition of who could offer more money in a bribe and who could bribe the most officials. And he knew far too well that the families that would be in the running for that weren't families for Harry to go to. He was almost positive that Harry would basically get bought by a Death Eater family and never seen again if that happened.

No, there really was no place for Harry to stay other than the Dursley's for now. Not even Hogwarts. He knew Harry wouldn't take the Dursley's over the school, but only staff could stay in the school during school break unless extenuating circumstances were in place. Circumstances that he couldn't manufacture. That was a rule not even the Headmaster could break. So he would stay with the Dursley's. It might mean that he would have to start charming his pillow to put him to sleep and making sure to take a dreamless sleep potion every night, but he would live with it. He had too. It was for The Greater Good.

"… He is the picture of perfect health." She finished. "Although I am unsure what brought about such a change, or just what all has been changed. And I'm afraid that I cannot find out, as the diagnostic spells needed to find out require him to be awake, otherwise his magic may fight it and risk killing us both for sure. I'm afraid there is very little I can do for him now until I know just what all has been changed."

"What _can_ you do?" Dumbledore pressed.

"I can let him sleep. Until he wakes and I can use diagnostic charms, among other things, to find out the extent of the changes. Then I have an idea of what I can do with him safely. Anything until then runs the risk of killing him and possibly me too."

Dumbledore sighed. "Draw the screens and cast privacy spells and wards to keep others away, save for you and me. For now, it seems that only you, me, and Fawkes know what has happened to Harry and I would like for it to remain that way for now." He drew his wand from his robes, eliciting a warning look from Poppy. He sighed. "I trust it is safe for me to cast a simple charm to alert me when he wakes?" She nodded, not looking embarrassed in the slightest. _'I know a healer is supposed to be protective of her patients.'_ He thought as he went through the wand motions and made sure to say the incantation out loud and clearly so she knew he wasn't doing anything else. _'But sometimes she takes it to extreme levels.'_

"Give Ronald Weasley a precursory examination. If he is unharmed, as I suspect he is, then send him to me after he's had some time to be with his family. _Without_ his siblings, mind you. Parent's either, if you can manage it." He held up a hand to stop her protests. "Peace. I merely need to find out what happened down there without any interference and Molly Weasley has the unfortunate habit of talking over others. In any even they will find out soon enough."

As Madam Pomfrey set about casting the wards and drawing the white cloth screens, Albus walked over to where Lockhart was bouncing on his bed with childlike glee. "Gilderoy, are you injured?"

He received no answer. Instead, Lockhart was now examining the sheets with extreme curiosity. Albus sighed. _'It seems that his mind has become damaged.'_ Flicking his wand at the bed, leather restraints emerged from underneath and wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles, drawing them taunt. If Lockhart didn't like this happening, nobody heard it as he was gagged a moment later by a strip of white cloth.

Discreetly pointing his wand at the bound wizard, even though he didn't need to, and silently used Legilimency to scour the man's mind. Or, at least, what was left of it. His earlier prediction proved to be true and then some. Most if not all of his memories were gone, his ability to retain new ones looked to be mostly gone as well. He shook his head sadly. From what he could tell, the damage was the result of a failed memory charm. Dumbledore frowned. Both Harry and Ron were only second year students. The memory charm was only even introduced in 4th year. Learned in 6th for the purpose of being used on muggles in order to maintain the Statue of Secrecy of Secrecy in emergency situations where official Ministry Obliviators weren't available. _'Something isn't right here.'_ He mused.

"Poppy?" Said healer looked up from where she was examining Ron. "I think it prudent to keep _Mr._ Lockhart restrained for now." The emphasis _Mr._ was not lost on anyone. "His mind has become irreparably damaged and I fear he may hurt himself if left alone. When you find the time, please administer Draught of the Living Death to Mr. Lockhart and contact someone at St. Mungo's to pick him up. I suspect Mr. Lockhart is now the newest resident of the Permanent Spell Damage Ward."

Dumbledore went through to Madam Pomfrey's office and used the floo to return to his own office. He eyed at how big Fawkes was when he saw him. Too big if he burst into flames immediately when he left. "I appreciate you seeing how urgent the situation is, but you don't have to accelerate your own growth that much."

A trill that sounded oddly haughty was his only reply. Phoenix's had remarkable control over their own rebirth cycle, though changing it beyond what it normally was did not come without drawbacks. They could initiate a Burning Day of their own accord. They could put one off too. They could also do what Fawkes was doing and accelerate their own growth, thought it would cause them to go through a Burning Day sooner.

"Seeing as you're so stubborn, I suppose I might as well get then pensieve ready." Phoenix's were also one of a very small amount of intelligent magical creatures whose memories could be extracted and viewed just like that of a human's in a pensieve. With phoenixes though their bodies had to be a certain biological age for the memory to be extracted. Ergo, why Fawkes was accelerating her own growth. _'Ah, well. I was considering using the pensieve with Mr. Weasley too anyway.'_

Pensieve out and floating in the air next to his desk, he then busied himself with putting the Sorting Hat up, cleaning Gryffindor's sword and putting it in its display case. Then he picked up the diary, a frown marring his features as he examined it with both his eyes and magic.

Only one thought came to mind when he realized what the diary used to contain. _'Tom, you are a fool. Just what have you done to yourself?'_

**Linebreak**

"And then Harry told me to try and clear out the rubble as much as he could while he went on for Ginny. A good bit after that, that bird came and suddenly I was in the Hospital Wing." Ron finished.

Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. _'So, Lockhart's a fraud and he wiped his mind from using Ronald's broken wand.'_ "Mr. Weasley, would you be willing to give me a copy of the memory of these events?"

The redhead nodded, prompting the Headmaster to continue. "I need you to focus on the memory of these events. I'll do the rest, ok?"

Albus stood up and walked over to where the youngest Weasley boy was seated, his eyes closed in concentration. He pulled his wand out of his robes and put it to Ron's temple. Drawing it out slowly, there was a silvery strand on the end of it. Moving slowly, he went over to the cabinet and retrieved a very small corked bottle. Uncorking it, he shook the tip of his wand slightly causing it to fall into it. Vowing to view the memory at a later date, he nodded politely at Ron.

"Thank you Mr. Weasley. You can return to your sister's side in the Hospital Wing. I shall send if I require anything more from you."

Ron got up and made for the door, only to stop half way. "Sir?"

Dumbledore looked at the Weasley patiently. "Yes?"

"Where's Harry?"

Dumbledore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't miss the look of fear that flashed across his face and knew that he had to say something soon, or else Ron would assume he was dead. "Harry…didn't come out of the Chamber unscathed. He is alive though, I assure you."

"Will he be alright?"

"I believe so, yes."

Ron noticed that the Headmaster hadn't said that Harry was alright, just that he believed he would be. Still, he remembered how his Father had once complained at how hard it was to get information out of the Headmaster when he didn't want to give it. _'If he believes Harry will be alright, that's good enough for me… for now.'_

Ron left the office, no doubt heading back to the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore sat there, waiting. _'I do hate moments like these where I have nothing to do.'_

Thankfully, he did have something to do in that in that moment a silvery doe chose that moment to phase in through the door. It stopped in front of him, peering at him curiously, before Severus's voice emanated from it. "The Mandrake Restorative Draught is done. I am heading to the Hospital Wing now to administer it to those that were petrified."

Albus nodded. Drawing his wand and focusing on happier times, as well as the need to send a message, he intoned "Expecto Patronum."

Out of his wand flew a silvery bird. Despite the fact that the shape was only definite enough to be sure that it was large bird, Albus liked to think that it was a phoenix patronus. Speaking in a firm, quiet voice, he said "That's good Severus. Let me know how it goes." The silvery phoenix hovered in the air before him as he spoke. When he finished speaking, it nodded. Turning, it flew straight through the wall and out of sight.

**Two days later**

Harry's head was pounding. Every bone in his body felt like it had been crushed up, his veins filled with hot lead. _'Did Dudley use my head as a drum again?'_ He thought, giving a soft moan. He opened his eyes, only to immediately shut them, hissing in pain.

"Can you hear me, Mr. Potter?"

He tried his best to nod in reaction to Madam Pomfrey's voice. Apparently he did. "Mr. Potter, do I have your permission to cast spells of a diagnostic nature on your person?"

He nodded again. He could hear the frown in Pomfrey's voice when she spoken next. "I need a spoken yes or no please Mr. Potter."

He frowned. Or at least tried too. Taking a deep breath, he said, in a low scratchy voice "Y-yes."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. This will only take a minute."

He heard a spoken incantation; though he couldn't make it out, and felt a strange feeling wash over him. It felt like a soft wave of energy ran through. As soon as it was over, he heard a loud gasp of surprise. "W-what's wrong?"

"Mr. Potter, can you open your eyes?" She asked after she regained her composure in a shaky voice.

He tried to open his eyes again, only to immediately shut them with another pained hiss. "T-too b-bright"

"I see." He heard yet another incantation that he didn't recognize. "Try now."

He slowly opened his eyes, only to see nothing but darkness. Panic set in. "What the bloody hell?!"

"Calm down and watch your language Mr. Potter. It's a simple spell to block light from your eyes and slowly lift that block as your eyes adjust to the light. Keep your eyes open. Your vision will return."

It was true. Even as she was speaking, his vision was slowly brightening. He heard walking and assumed Pomfrey walked away. After about four or five very quiet minutes he could see clearly enough to make out that he was in a bed in the Hospital Wing. The screens were drawn and there was some sort of heat haze around his bed. Madam Pomfrey returned, looking shaken as she stood next to the bed, staring at him with a disturbed and curious look. With her was Headmaster Dumbledore, calm as ever.

"How do you feel Harry?" Dumbledore asked, taking a place next to the bed in a chair. "I trust your vision has returned adequately?"

"Yes Sir, it has." Harry answered. "My eyes still hurt though, and I'm really sore. It hurts a bit to breath. Kind of like somebody set something heavy on my chest. And my throat is really dry though."

Dumbledore nodded. "Noby?" A small, rather skinny house elf appeared. It was wearing a plain grey shirt and shorts, with no shoes and had big grey eyes. "Yes master?"

"Could you please fetch a glass of ice water and hand it to Harry here?" The elf vanished with a quiet crack and came back, handing a tall glass of ice water to Harry. Harry accepted, drinking the cold water greedily. He wiped the water that ran down the sides of his face. The elf turned to Dumbledore. "Will that be all sirs?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, thank you. You can go."

The elf disappeared and Harry realized something was wrong. _'I'm not wearing my glasses and yet I can see perfectly after my eyes adjusted. What happened to me?'_

Experimentally, he turned to the bedside table where he saw his glasses, basilisk fang used to destroy the diary, and his holly wand. He grabbed his glasses and put them on, only to immediately take them off and stare at them as if they were something other than his glasses.

"Is there something wrong with your glasses Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Just the opposite. It doesn't seem that there's anything wrong with my eyes anymore. I don't need glasses anymore. If anything, wearing them actually hurts my vision now."

"I see." Dumbledore appeared thoughtful.

"Sir" Harry said, a new thought coming to her. "How long have I been out?"

There was silence for a moment. Then Madam Pomfrey took his hand and said in a gentle voice "You've been out for two days."

'_Two days…'_ "What happened to me?"

Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey exchanged looks. "Poppy, why don't you check on your other patients? I believe I can adequately explain what happened to young Mr. Potter here." Madam Pomfrey gave the Headmaster a sharp look. "What?"

"Albus, I know how you operate." Pomfrey said bluntly. "You and your secrets. I absolutely won't have it in this matter. Harry has a legal right to know everything about what has happened to him and his body down in the Chamber of Secrets. I will not hesitate to divulge and elaborate on anything that you omit and will remain here to ensure that I have the opportunity to do so, as is my right and directive as a Mediwitch."

'_He's keeping secrets from me?'_ Thought Harry, a bit disturbed.

"Poppy, please." Dumbledore pleaded. Of course, as Headmaster, he technically had the authority to order her to leave. But it _really_ wasn't a good idea to piss off the person who just might hold your life in their hands one day. Of course she wouldn't kill him, but it would be all too easy to 'run out' of things like potions for pain, sleep, dreamless sleep, or any other host other things that were needed for comfort, rather necessity.

Pomfrey sniffed. "In any event Miss Weasley is just sleeping, all the people who were petrified were cured just yesterday—"

"They all alright then?"

The healer glared at him for his interruption. He immediately realized his mistake. "Sorry ma'am." He said, looking down.

That seemed to pacify the Mediwitch. In any event, Poppy couldn't keep herself angry at the normally sweet, quiet, and polite boy who was only worried about his friends. Even if he did seem to have a trend of spending too much time in her care, he was still malnourished, so it couldn't be his entire fault for that. Especially with what just happened to the poor boy. "Yes. All the people petrified by the basilisk have been cured successfully, two days ago." She gave him a smile. "In particular, Miss Granger has been insistent on visiting you, Mr. Weasley too. I'm afraid we haven't let them though."

"Why not?"

Dumbledore chose this moment to speak. "Harry, before you woke, we couldn't be sure what happened to you, but we had our suspicions. For that reason, we felt it best if few knew of your condition. Outside of me and Poppy, only Fawkes knows."

Harry nodded in understanding. "And Ginny? How is she?"

Pomfrey cleared her throat. "Other than above average magical exhaustion, Miss Weasley was fine. All she needs is plenty of bed rest and likely some extensive counseling for her ordeal. In any event I feel we are getting off topic. The point is my only patient is Miss Weasley, as Mr. Lockhart was taken to St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward, as a result of the backfired memory charm damaging his mind irreparably, late yesterday, and she is sleeping. A mild sleeping potion ensures that she will remain that way for a while yet."

If Dumbledore was displeased with her ability to reason that there was no reason she couldn't be there to ensure he didn't tell him everything he didn't show it. Instead he merely nodded. "Very well. Harry, what do you know about accidental magic?"

When Harry just shook his head, Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Well, you should know that mainly there are two types of accidental magic. Most people mainly express one type, with little of the other, although powerful enough witches and wizards express both equally. The first type is called outward accidental magic. As you can guess, it affects the world around the wizard. Vanishing things, changing colors of objects. Accidental levitation, transfiguration. These types of wizards and witches are the easiest to spot." Dumbledore smiled. "These types are also the biggest headache for the Ministry and their Obliviators. Can't punish them because it's accidental, but still have to keep the incidents contained because of the Statue of Secrecy. Hard to track too."

"The other type is inward accidental magic. It is rather rare, less obvious and really only a problem if a person with inward accidental magic goes to a muggle hospital or gets looked at by muggle healers. People who express this type of accidental magic heal faster, barely ever get sick, and are usually in better physical condition than others. They almost never suffer from natural blemishes such as pimples or boils. Sometimes these people even regrow their hair and fingernails faster. This is because their magic is focused inward on their body rather than outward on their environment. Unfortunately, as is with people with outward accidental magic, as these types of people grow and mature, gaining control of their magic, this effect lessens greatly, but is never quiet gone. Are you with me so far?"

Harry nodded. Pomfrey wasn't impressed. "Could you please get to the point Albus? Dancing around the point helps no one."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm getting to it Poppy, please be patient. Besides, it doesn't hurt Harry to learn all this, does it?" He smiled at the end, eyes twinkling. "Anyway, as I was saying, when it comes to magic, there is a rare phenomenon. You see, when it comes to magic of any kind, a lot of it is intent and will driven. Some of the greatest inexplicable unexplainable feats of magic have no incantation, no associated wand motion. Some don't even use a wand in the casting and the caster can rarely duplicate the feat, because they were cast in a bout of passionate emotion and want of something to happen. Some spells today were created in an attempt to replicate these effects."

"In relation to inward accidental magic, there is the beyond rare phenomenon. You see, when exceptionally powerful yet young wizard who has yet to grow out of the stage where they are prone to accidental magic, which is usually around 14 and under, is near death, there is a chance that a bout of inward accidental magic will save them. Mind you, it is beyond rare and the requirements for this to happen are unclear at best. Most agree it requires a slow demise not related to anything like blood loss, so as to give the afflicted ample time to save themselves. It also requires a strong will to live and a strong magical core."

"Is that what saved me sir?" Harry asked. "I don't understand. Why would you keep a bout of accidental magic that saved me a secret?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, my boy, I don't think you understand. This type of magic doesn't do anything like vanish the poison or disease from your body to save you. It changes your body to accept whatever is killing you."

Harry felt like somebody had just punched him in the gut, driving all the air out of his lungs, and then dropped him in a tub full of ice water. His blood ran cold, and he knew he would have fallen if he was standing. As it stood now, he was fighting the darkness at the edge of his vision that threatened to spread. "What?" He said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Harry." Blearily, Harry realized that that was the first time that Madam Pomfrey had just called him by his first name for the first time. "It means that you're no longer human. Or at least, not fully human."

Harry stared off into space. For the longest time he said nothing. Struggling to keep the panic out of his voice, he said "Just what am I? What changed?"

Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth, but Dumbledore cut her off. "Small things first, hmm?" He gave Madam Pomfrey a winning smile. She just glared, but allowed him to continue. "I believe the first thing that you will find that changed is your appearance."

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a hand mirror and handed it to Harry, so as to see what had changed.

The first word that came to mind when viewing the unfamiliar face that stared back at him from the mirror was angular. Sharp. Almost regal. The resemblance to his father was still there, but he no longer looked like a clone of the man with his mother's eyes. He now had high cheek bones and deep set eyes. His entire face seemed to have gained a sharp, aristocratic look. To his relief he still had his mother's piercing Killing-Curse-green eyes, although now they seemed to glow with an inner fire. His hair was still just as messy and out of control, but it seemed to have gained some sort of volume. He ran a hand through it and was amazed at how soft it was. _'Almost like feathers.'_ His skin wasn't as pale as before, but still not tanned enough for anyone to accuse him to having a tan. He lifted up his hair, baring his scar to the world and suppressed a groan. _'Why is it that a scar is the one thing on my face that doesn't really change?'_ His lightning bolt scar looked just the same as it had before, although now it showed up even better with his slightly darker skin.

Slowly, he got up out of the bed to see what else had changed. The first thing he noticed was that somebody had changed him out of his robes and into a plain white form fitting short sleeved shirt and matching shorts. Looking down at himself, he looked about the same. He was a good bit taller and wasn't as skinny, but other than his new slightly darker skin tone he looked the same.

He looked down at himself again, and then back up at Dumbledore, then Pomfrey, a hopeless look in his eyes as he sat back down on the bed.

Dumbledore exchanged another glance at Poppy, then leaned forward and grasped Harry's hand.

"Harry, listen to be closely." Harry looked up into Dumbledore's eyes. "Who we are isn't determined by what we are. It is determined by what we do. It's our actions that define us, not the other way around. I have lived through two wars. One against Grindelwald and another against Voldemort. In both I have seen acts of unspeakable cruelty. I call Voldemort a monster, not because through the use of dark magic's and rituals he twisted his appearance to that of a monster, but the monstrous actions that he used the powers he gained from them for."

"Harry, you are an unfailingly kind person. I see your mother and father in you so much every day. You are no less your mother and father's son than the day you were born. Always remember that."

Harry nodded and took a moment to steady himself. "What else is different?"

"Poppy, if you please." Albus stated, holding out his hand. Poppy produced a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Albus, who held it out to him politely. "The results of the diagnostic charm Poppy cast on you earlier." He said in a way of explanation. Harry took it and read over it.

**Name:** Harry James Potter

**Parents:** James Charlus Potter, Lily Rose Potter nee Evans, (Unclassifiable third of unknown origins)

**Race:** (Unclassified as of yet)

**Sex:** Male

**Age:** 12

**Height: **1.5 meters

**Weight:** 38 kilograms

**Status:** Wizard, far above average magical core strength for age

**Attributes of magical/unusual nature:**

Parseltongue (Understanding aspect always active, ability to speak aspect active on command)

As of yet unclassified ability to understand as of yet unknown type of magical creature (Always active)

Raven black down feathers replace hair on head, mimic most qualities of regular human hair save texture and volume. Will possibly require preening.

Stronger than average bones, hollow

Extremely small scales that mimic almost all qualities of regular human skin save that as more resistant to damage of both magic and mundane origins. Will possibly shed for cleaning purposes

Above average magical healing and poison/disease/curse resistance (Always active)

Fangs in sheathe in mouth connected to poison sacks full of venom that mimic weaker qualities of basilisk venom

Tear ducts that produce tears containing healing qualities of quality only beat by the healing quality of phoenix tears

Unknown (Adaptability?) quality of magical origin spread over whole body (Sporadically active, rare response to (Possibly threatening?) presence of other magical beings and creatures)

**Ailments:** Malnourishment, slight magical exhaustion, full physical body soreness

Harry stared at the page in disbelief. Wearily, he brought a hand up to his mouth. He felt around in his mouth. Everything felt the same as the before, until he found four slits. Two on his top jaw, two on the bottom. They were located between the rest of his teeth and his lips, evenly spaced. He worked his jaw, flexing his muscles, trying to figure out how to. "The fangs. How do I…?"

"Unsheathe them?" Dumbledore gave a sad smile. "I'm afraid we are in uncharted territory here. There is no instruction manual for things like this. However, if I may make a suggestion? He smiled serenely. Harry nodded. "If you were to ask, I believe the answer you seek may be able to be found from a snake."

Harry nodded, resolving to find a snake and ask as Dumbledore continued. "Of course, you may find that they will unsheathe in moments of emotion of anger or fear or in the presence of a threat to your life. I trust you will act responsibly with them when you do learn to unsheathe them at will?"

"What do you mean sir?" Harry asked, even thought he had a good idea why.

"Feigning ignorance does not suit you Harry." Dumbledore answered. "I am not unaware of the animosity between you and Mr. Malfoy. I do hope you understand that we may not be able to save Mr. Malfoy if one day he pushes you too far and you sink your fangs in him or anyone else."

"I won't sir."

"Good, seeing as for all intents and purposes you have a possibly deadly weapon on you now at all times."

Harry smiled. "Sir, with all due respect, couldn't the same be said for every person here who carries a wand with them everywhere?"

Dumbledore nodded. "True, although wands can be taken and your fangs can't. And there is no question whether or not a wand can be deadly."

"Sir, what's this part right here, near the end?" Harry asked. "Right before Ailments?"

Dumbledore peered at the paper curiously. "Well, that's the question, isn't it? All it says is that in the presence of other magical beings or creatures is that there is the possibility of you adapting to it, or something along those lines. I'm unsure just what this means, but to be on the safe side I don't think you should be seeking out encounters with magical creatures for now. And before you ask about what that is under Parseltongue, it just means that you have gained the ability to understand a certain type of magical creature."

"What's the use of understanding if I can't talk back to them and they understand me?"

"Given that it says "magical creature", likely whatever you can understand can understand you anyways."

There was a moment of silence. Then Dumbledore said "If you would Poppy, I think it would be time to give Harry that spell you recommended he learn."

"What spell sir?" Harry asked as Pomfrey left to get it.

"When we learned that your tears have healing powers, Poppy recommended you learning a spell that causes the caster to cry without inflicting pain or anything. It's easy to learn and lasts as long as the castor wishes it to last. You may find it useful in times of crisis where a healer is not available and your tears may save another's life."

"Just who would actually need to use that spell other than me? I doubt there are any people many people out there with tears like mine and I can't imagine needing a spell to make you cry for anything."

Dumbledore chuckled. "That's a funny story actually. It involves nurses and when needing to have incredible control of their emotions was a part of the job description. Bottom line, they no longer have to control their emotions so much, but the spell was never taken off the required spell learning list to become a Mediwitch"

Pomfrey returned, holding a piece of paper. She had him memorize the incantation first before even touching his wand. Once he had, she nodded. "Ok, then Mr. Potter. The wand motion is just a simple flick." She showed him, before directing him to try it with his own wand.

As soon as his hands brushed the wood of the handle of his wand, he knew something was wrong. He lost control of his hand as his fingers lurched forward and locked around the handle so tight they turned white. "Something's wrong…" He mumbled as he suddenly felt weak. It felt like all his energy was being drained away as his wand suddenly grew burningly hot in his hand and began to glow.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Dumbledore's concerned face was the last thing he saw as darkness overtook him again.

Dumbledore sighed as Harry slumped forward, hand still locked around his still glowing wand. With a wave of his wand, Harry was back in the bed, tucked in. She glanced at Harry's wand uncertainly as she started to go to take it. "Allow me." Dumbledore smiled charmingly as he pushed her hand back. "I think first we need to cast a muscle relaxing spell on his hand first, don't you?"

Pomfrey nodded and with a silent word and a wave of her wand Harry's hand relaxed. Playing it safe, Dumbledore pulled out a small metal figurine of a metal man out of his pocket. With one wave he enlarged it to the size of a large child sized statue. With another, he animated it and gave it the command to pick up Harry's wand. It did so, holding the wand as the glow slowly died down. Dumbledore transfigured Harry's now empty cup into a metal box just big enough to hold Harry's wand and had his animated statue place it in the box. Holding the box in one hand, he undid the charms and collected his figurine from the floor and asked "How is he Poppy?"

Pomfrey didn't answer. Instead, she retrieved the piece of paper with Harry's information on it. Producing a small knife from the inside of her robes, she grabbed Harry's hand, cast a spell on it to temporarily numb pain, and pricked the end of his index finger, drawing blood. Healing the cut, she tapped the knife with her finger, knocking off a drop of blood onto the piece of paper and tapped the paper with her wand. The writing on it wavered as the paper updated itself to Harry's condition and the blood disappeared into the paper.

"His magical exhaustion got worse, but judging from how fast he recovered last time he should be back up tomorrow. He has some burns on his hand, but I can give him a salve for that when he wakes. Albus, what just happened with his wand? I've never seen anything like that, in all my years."

Albus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "An extremely rare occurrence, but given what happened not completely unexpected. I'm afraid we are going to have to bring in someone with more knowledge pertaining to wands than me before anything is done. In the mean time I suggest that, at least for now, we keep his wand from him until this matter is resolved."

Poppy nodded. Gesturing to Harry, she said "I trust that, given his changes, there are no longer any reasons against him receiving treatment for malnourishment?"

Albus nodded. _'His relatives will already notice his changes as is. Might as well go all in and hope for the best. Besides, if things go the way I hope, he will only spend the bare minimum there that he has to in order to make sure that the wards are charged.'_ "Yes, go ahead and make preparations for that as well as the burn salve and something to help manage that full body soreness. Something to help speed along recovery from magical exhaustion too, if you can."

Poppy nodded as another silvery doe walked right through the wards and the screen. It spoke with Snape's voice. "Albus, a rumor of your return has spread and Lucius has informed me that he has decided to come to the school tomorrow with his house elf to see the truth of the matter. I could not dissuade him."

Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully. _'From the memories gleaned from Ronald and Ginerva from there encounter in Flourish and Blotts it was Mr. Malfoy who slipped young Miss Weasley the diary in the first place. Perhaps it's time for me to return it to him?'_ Dumbledore thought, having recalled when the currently sleeping redhead had woken and he'd interrogated her about where she got the diary from, questioning her brother when all she was sure of was that she got it in Flourish and Blotts, but wasn't sure when. Alongside her brother, he took memories from both of them and proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mr. Malfoy had slipped the diary among Ginerva's school text books in Flourish and Blotts.

What truly frustrated the ancient wizard was the fact that memories were too easily fabricated and altered, thus they were not admissible in court. _'Which is a good thing, as much as I don't like it. It'd be too easy to get anyone convicted with fake memories.'_

Unless he somehow got Malfoy senior to confess to his crimes before a full Wizengamot, and even then it would be spotty given how Fudge was in his pocket. Albus frowned. Despite that memories weren't admissible in court, many believed in them. He could possibly use the memories to sway many members of Wizengamot to call an investigation into the Malfoy family.

Of course, such an investigation probably wouldn't lead anywhere, of that Albus was sure. The substantial amount of gold in the Malfoy vaults would see to that. _'But it _would_ cause a rather large amount of trouble for him…'_ Dumbledore sighed, a slight frown marring his face. _'It may leave a bad taste in my mouth, but I'll live with it. The official channels are closed on this, so blackmail is the route left.'_

**End Chapter**

**I guessed on the height, weight, and age.**

**Anyway, tell me what you think. Any good? Is it worth continuing, at the very least?**


	2. Do I Want Them To Know?

**Chapter 2: Do I want them to know?**

Albus idly popped a lemon drop into his mouth from the bowl on his desk, an easy smile coming to his face as he tasted it. He rested his hands on his desk and waited. From his control over the wards he knew that his unwanted guest had arrived some time ago. Unfortunately, the wards were not informative enough to tell him his exact position of his unwanted guest and had yet to receive the signal that somebody had passed the gargoyle to the stair case to enter his office. He popped another lemon drop in his mouth, sighing as the calming droughts the lemon drops were laced with did their job in calming him down. _'I wonder how long Lucius plans on stalling.'_ He thought, amused that the (Ex-?)Death Eater Malfoy family head was stalling what he knew was an attempt to bully him back out of office.

After finding out about the elder Malfoy's plan to visit Hogwarts, ironically through the bragging of his son Draco Malfoy that Severus happened to overhear, Albus immediately used the rest of yesterday to meet separately with the other governors of Hogwarts in order to acquire the memories of their separate encounters with Lucius, where the man threatened to get together with some of his "old friends" and pay their families a visit. It wasn't much, as Lucius was clever enough to say things so that they would be up to interpretation, but better for him to cover all his bases.

A gong-like sound emanated through the room, signaling that someone had passed the gargoyle. In response, Albus retrieved his wand from within the inner pocket of his robes and placed it on his desk, making sure his hand was near it as the door was suddenly tossed open and inward strode Lucius Malfoy with his trademark, cruel, superior smirk. Behind him was a rather beaten looking house elf, wearing what appeared to be a dirty pillowcase. The house elf cowered behind his master, doing his best to not make a sound.

He sneered down at the Headmaster. "So the rumors are true." He drawled. "You've returned. Was the notice that me and the rest of the board voted to remove you unclear in any way?"

Albus chuckled low in his throat, a sound that seemed to offend the Malfoy head of family. Picking up his wand, he waved it at the door, causing it to close and lock. Going a step further, he activated the privacy wards, an action that caused Lucius to raise an eyebrow at the action "No, Lucius, it was not. However, during my vacation, I decided to visit the other governors. Would you like to know what I discovered when I did?" He leaned forward, looking down his half moon glasses at the blond with a smile. "Almost all of the other governors only voted that way because they were under the impression that you would gather up some old friends and curse their families."

Malfoy scoffed. "They must've been mistaken then."

"Is that so?" Albus asked rhetorically. "Funny. I know for a fact that you're not above hurting children in order to achieve your goals."

"Really?" Lucius drawled. As much as Albus didn't like the man, he had to give him credit: his face was an emotionless blank slate. Not a hint of emotion. "And just what made you come by that conclusion, oh so illustrious _Headmaster_?"

Albus smiled patiently. Whether Malfoy realized it or not, he had just admitted the he was the rightful Headmaster. Reaching within the inner fold of his pocket, he withdrew Riddle's destroyed diary and placed it on the desk. _'There it is.'_ He thought smugly, having caught the faintest flicker of fear on the blonde's normally emotionless face.

After a moment of silence, Lucius cleared his throat. "Do not blame me, Dumbledore, if objects of a dark magical nature find their way into the hands of children, who then bring said objects into school. I-"

"How, pray tell, could you tell that it was, or to be more accurate used to be, a dark object? I myself could not tell until I put my hands on it."

Lucius sneered at him. "Perhaps your senses have eroded in your old age."

"Save it." Dumbledore held up a hand and said in a tired voice "I have collected the memories of Ginerva and Ronald Weasley. Those alone prove without a doubt that it was _you_ who personally gave young Miss Weasley this cursed diary. I have identified others who were there when you slipped it among her school things and have sent letters with requests for their memories as well." He lied smoothly at the end. It would've been impossible to identify anyone from their memories. But he didn't know that. He leaned forward. "I must congratulate you on your audacity of handing a cursed diary to a child inside a store packed with people. A move worthy of any Gryffindor." He smiled at the end. Telling a person like Malfoy that he was like a Gryffindor was the worse equivalent of calling somebody a Mudblood.

Malfoy gave him a cold stare, face twisting into a mask of cold fury. In response to his master's anger, the house elf gave a whimper, no doubt sensing that he would be the outlet of his master's anger later. "Too bad memories aren't admissible in court." He finally growled out.

"You and I both know that memories can convince others of your heinous actions. Added with the memories of you threatening the other Hogwarts governors, I doubt that it will take long to call an investigation into your actions. What do you think they will uncover?"

He saw the brief triumphant gleam in Lucius's eyes and sighed. The eldest Malfoy now knew that he had two options. Either withdraw copious amounts of galleons in order to silence the investigation into him and his family, or do something to appease the Headmaster so that he didn't have to do that. Albus knew that he would pick the option that cost the least to him. _'The key here to get him to agree is to not ask for more than it would cost for him to silence the investigation.'_

"And just what will I have to do in order to ensure that those memories get lost?" Asked Lucius Malfoy, voice showing but murderous intent toward the Headmaster.

"Monetary compensation to all the children and their families that were affected by the basilisk that the diary unleashed. Payment for counseling for the young Miss Weasley for her experiences with the diary, as well as generous monetary compensation to her and the entire Weasley family. Generous monetary compensation for Mr. Potter as well, as a start."

Malfoy's dark eyes burned with fury. "I see why with the others and the Weasels, but what does Potter have to do with anything? Is his sizable inheritance not enough for the brat?"

"It was Mr. Harry James Potter that slew the beast in the end and saved the school from it, at no little risk to himself. He even did it without the use of his wand, amazingly enough As such, I believe that he deserves a little more than an award for 'Special Services to the School'."

Lucius's face flickered with surprise at the knowledge that Harry had killed the basilisk, but he regained his composure soon enough. "Anything else?" His voice was as warm as ice.

"You will be resigning from your post as a governor of Hogwarts, to give it to another person of my choosing." Now _that_ was pushing it. Malfoy's hand tightened around his cane, where Albus knew his wand was hidden. In response, Albus laid a hand gently on his wand, causing the tip to give off a dangerous glow. Twinkle now absent from his eyes; he said "You wouldn't be foolishly thinking to attack me, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, in my own office, now _would you_?" Lucius visibly paled in response, and his hand loosened its grip on his hidden wand. Albus smiled. "Good, then we are in agreement on these terms?"

Lucius stared long and hard at him. "And just how will these people receive their compensation? One of the few admirable traits the Weasels have is that they refuse handouts of any nature. The others won't be easy either."

Albus leaned back. "You let me worry about how they will be receiving their money. They might not know where it comes from, but trust me when I say that they _will_ get it."

"I give the money, and resign as governor, and those memories disappear?" Lucius questioned, looking rather constipated at the idea of doing _anything_ for the so called "Leader of the Light".

Albus nodded. "I, unfortunately, shall forget where I placed the memories."

"I want it in writing."

Albus nodded, having expected this. A binding Magical contract was common place in shady deals such as this. They ensured that both parties held up their end. If, for any reason, one party failed to do so, then they lost their magic and most likely ended up dying a painful death. Or they lived on as a squib, a fate worse than death for many purebloods. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a rather large piece of parchment, covered in writing. He smiled at the ex-(?)Death Eater in front of him. "Thankfully for us, I have a contract already drawn up. All it requires is our signatures. I even pulled a few strings and got a Blood Quill for us to use to make it even more binding."

He handed the contract to the elder Malfoy and while he looked over it, he looked in another drawer in his desk and withdrew a single Blood Quill. Malfoy pursed his lips and read over the contract _extensively_. _'Really, I'm the so called Leader of the Light. They're the ones that are supposed to play dirty, not me.'_

After the ten minute mark, Malfoy looked up, and cleared his throat. "Well, surprisingly, everything is in order."

Albus nodded. "Well now, the only thing left now is to agree upon a number for the various compensations and sign."

That alone took another frustrating five minutes. Finally, after deciding upon a 'fair' price, they signed.

Malfoy sneered at the Headmaster, rubbing his hand from where the Blood Quill had cut into his hand. "I trust that there is _nothing_ left for us to discuss?"

Albus shook his head. "Nothing comes to mind."

Lucius rolled his eyes. Looking to his side to his house elf, he said "Come Dobby." He turned and walked away. Dobby sent him a mournful look and slowly began to follow his master.

Albus frowned. Thinking quickly, he wandlessly summoned something and slipped it into the diary. Just before Malfoy reached the door, Albus called out to him. "Stop." Malfoy turned, an irritated look on his face. As soon as they made eye contact, Albus quickly cast several incredibly discreet Compulsion charms**(AN1)** on the elder Malfoy in order to make sure that things went the way he needed them too.

As charmed, Malfoy walked back across the room in order to stand in his former position before his desk. "_What_ is it? I have better things to do than to be your entertainment, _old man_."

Albus just gestured at the ruined diary. "I believe you are forgetting something."

Malfoy scoffed at him. Picking it up as charmed, he examined it, before giving a sound of disgust. He shoved to his side, right in the arms of Dobby, as Albus predicted he would do. He turned and, without a word, again began walking toward the door, seemingly oblivious that Dobby was just standing with the diary with a confused expression on his face.

Albus mouthed 'Open it' to Dobby. Following his instructions, the house elf opened the diary and quickly flipped through a few pages. His eyes widened when he chanced upon a sock, folded and hidden within the pages. Lucius reached the door and, upon realizing that Dobby wasn't with him, called out "Come Dobby. Time to go home."

"No."

The response was quiet. Indeed, Albus was so close and yet he barely heard it himself. Lucius, however, reacted like somebody had just slapped him across the face. He whirled around, face scrunched up in anger. "_What_ did you just say?!" He stalked forward with all the force of raging bull. "Stop this foolishness at once! You _will_ return to your home at once. We will speak of this later."

"No, _we_ will not." Dobby held up the sock for all to see. "Dobby has been presented with _clothes_ by Master." Dobby's eyes practically _glowed_ with happiness. "Dobby is _free_!" He cried, doing a little dance in place.

If looks could kill, the look Lucius Malfoy sent him when realization of what he did hit him would be a thousand times deadlier than the _Avada Kedavra_, or any amount of basilisk venom. "Why you manipulative old bast—"

With one wave of his wand, Malfoy was silenced. With another, the Malfoy elder found himself being guided down the stairs by two conjured and animated marble statues. The entire time, Dobby was standing there, nearly catatonic with happiness.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Dobby was bouncing up in excitement. He opened it to speak, but was cut off by a hand. Albus knew what he was going to ask anyway. As a house elf, he couldn't be happy without working for a wizard. "Your name is Dobby, correct?"

The free house elf nodded, again opening his mouth to speak, but getting cut off. "I afraid, Dobby, that neither I nor Hogwarts require the services of another house elf at this time."

The house elf nodded sadly, no doubt getting ready to leave, when Albus suddenly continued. "However, I happen to know a certain young wizard who might require the services of a fine house elf, such as yourself." Dobby looked up suddenly. Albus smiled. "You are familiar with Mr. Potter, are you not?"

**Line Break**

Hermione Jane Granger wasn't happy. She wasn't happy at all. In fact, it would be more accurate to say she was frustrated with just about everything.

After coming to from being petrified, she was welcomed back to the land of the living by the ever so pleasant expression on Professor Snape's face. He curtly informed her how long she had been out. Not even bothering to wait for her to calm down after such a shock, he informed her that being petrified did not excuse her from her schoolwork in any of her classes and that all the assignments he had assigned while she was petrified were due by the end of school, which was a few weeks away, and that it was her responsibility to not only learn the material required to complete her assignments from him on her own, as he was unavailable for extra tutoring(Which she suspected was a lie, as there were more than a few rumors about how he always had time whenever a Slytherin needed tutoring.) and he did not consider any of the other Gryffindor's able to help her at all, but she also had to take it upon herself to find out what assignments she had to make up in other classes from the other teaches. He did, rather helpfully, provide a detailed list of all the assignments she had due from him. But she got the feeling that he gave it to her just to make sure that she couldn't use the excuse that she didn't know about the assignment as a reason that she didn't turn it in.

The other teachers were more helpful. They not only gave her detailed lists of the assignments she missed, they also offered their time to help her catch up. Professor Mcgonagall even offered what knowledge she had potions wise when she heard that Professor Snape wasn't helping her catch up. While she accepted their help, it was more for the purpose of filling in any possible holes in her education. Getting any information that was not available from a book. Book wise, she should have been ready for class's midway through third year.

Her frustration on that front stemmed from the fact that now not only did she have enough assignments due to actually warrant spending all her time in the library, she had to spend that time playing catch up instead of reading ahead like she prefer to do. _'It'll probably take me the better half of the summer to catch up to my regular level of having read ahead.'_ She thought, annoyed.

But that was just how she was frustrated on one front. On another level entirely, she found out Harry had found her note about the basilisk. Which should have been a good thing. But it wasn't. After figuring out that it was a basilisk terrorizing the halls of Hogwarts, she had been both excited and terrified. Excited because she finally could put a name to the monster, which meant they were that much closer to getting rid of it. She could tell the teachers about it and they would be able to find it and kill it easier (Looking back, she thought that was rather presumptuous that killing a basilisk could be, in any sense of the word, easy). She was terrified, because it was insanely lucky that, as of yet, nobody had been killed. It was scary easy for a basilisk to kill. All it'd take was one careless glance and you were done. Which was why she had taken to carrying around a mirror.

But back to the subject of her frustration. Instead of telling the teachers in her stead, he had instead somehow found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and gone inside, with the assistance of Ron and Professor Lockhart. She understood, she really did. They had to save Ron's sister and in that sort of situation time was or felt like it was of the essence. Looking back, she realized that if she knew it was a basilisk terrorizing the school, and then more likely than not the Professor's did too, thus, there'd be no point to telling them. On some level, that registered. On some level, she was frustrated by that too.

'_But really?'_ Hermione raged. _'Why not let Professor Dumbledore to handle it after they found the entrance?'_ It was rather stupid to try and take down a basilisk on his own.

But he did it, somehow. That was the only explanation. Basilisks were very aggressive and territorial creatures. They couldn't go in, get Ginny, and get out. The large snake obviously could get in and out of the Chamber at will, so it wasn't trapped. The large snake would've followed them until it killed them, or they killed it. Which meant that, somehow, and Dumbledore confirmed it when she asked, Harry became the youngest person ever to kill a basilisk.

She wasn't like Ron when it came to jealously **(AN2)** (She had to give him credit in the fact that he hid it very well, but she was very observant, more so than Harry. He envied Harry's money, fame, and his skill on a broom, which made him the youngest seeker in centuries.) With her grades significantly higher than just about everybody, she didn't really have a reason to be jealous. Or, at least in her eyes she didn't. But hearing that your bestest male friend was the not only the youngest slayer of a basilisk, arguably one of the most deadly and dangerous creatures in the world, but also the fact that said basilisk was none other than Salazar Slytherin's monster which meant it was extremely old, was not something you could hear without being the least bit envious. When it came to basilisks, the older they were, the more powerful and magically resistant they were. She didn't know how he had killed something that strong, but the fact that he was capable of doing it was what she was really slightly jealous of.

Which also made her feel bad, guilty, and hating herself for being jealous that Harry could kill a basilisk. In the end, all those feelings, save a small bit of jealousy, combined into frustration, aimed at herself for feeling that way. _'Fighting that basilisk put Harry in the Hospital Wing, for Merlin's sake!'_ She scolded herself angrily. _'How can I even think about being jealous of that?'_

That line of thought led her to yet another headache. Harry was in the Hospital Wing and the only thing she knew about his injuries was that he was out of the danger at his life ending and that he was, in Dumbledore's words, recovering. Her trust in authority figures was warring with her want to know what was up with Harry. She was angry at Dumbledore for not telling, angry at herself for being angry at Dumbledore and not trusting that he knew best.

Harry's absence the last few days brought something unexpected to light. Ron. The two weren't 'clicking' like before. Sure, they could still hang out and everything, but there was little they had to say to each other. She wasn't interested with Quidditch beyond supporting Harry when he was playing, generally supporting the Gryffindor Quidditch team above whoever they were playing, and even those two were just because of the fact that she felt obligated to support her house out of house pride and because Harry was her friend.

But Ron could quite literally go on for hours on the subject. She knew. She asked him a single question about the wizarding sport in an attempt to break an awkward silence and was subjected to a lecture. Hermione was the type of girl who could stay awake even when it was Professor Bin's lecturing on and on about the goblin wars without feeling sleepy where all the other students would fall asleep listening or use it as a independent study but hearing Ron drone about the pro's and con's of changing the size of the bludgers, she felt her eyes droop.

The only thing else Ron was passionate about chess. She knew how to play chess. She actually enjoyed the occasional game of chess. She did not enjoy playing with Ron. Right off the bat, he said she took too long to decide what to do. It wasn't her fault she wanted to win, thus was careful about her moves. But he kept whining and complaining she got angry at him and started making impulsive, stupid moves. Which lead to a swift and humiliating defeat. _'What happened to being a gentlemen and letting the girl win?'_ She found herself thinking childishly. _'Although to be fair, I wouldn't have accepted such a victory anyway. So really there's no way for him to win in that sort of situation anyway.'_ She sniffed. _'Best to just avoid getting into it in the first place.'_

As sad as it was to admit, Harry was the glue that held her friendship to Ron in place. The only thing she really had in common with Ronald Weasley was Harry Potter. Trying to be friends with Ron when Harry wasn't around was a pointless endeavor. Hermione knew it and felt it. As thick as Ron could be about a lot of things, she felt like Ron knew it too.

As Hermione walked to the Great Hall for dinner, radiating tension, she let out a frustrated sigh. _'Is nothing simple anymore?'_

**Line Break**

Harry bit into the head of a chocolate frog, both ending the animation charms on it and getting a rather large bit into it. He munched on it, enjoying the sweet taste of the chocolate. Three more easy bits finished off the rest of the chocolate frog. He delved back into the stack, wondering what else he might want.

He'd woken up ten minutes ago. Everything around him was the same, except the stack of sweets, cards, and some flowers that materialized on the right side of his bed. Just like last year when he was in the hospital, he'd been sent more than a few 'get well' cards, some with sweets, and some with flowers. Madam Pomfrey, in her almost obsessive neatness, had organized it in neat stacks next to his bed.

He hadn't been awake for a minute before Pomfrey came, ran a few diagnostic spells. She rubbed some burn salve on his hand and gave him a potion for soreness. She informed him of the stack of get well gifts and told him she had already taken the liberty of sending replies to everyone who sent a gift with a name (Many didn't say who sent the gift), told him that she had checked all the sweets for poisons and love potions (She said she didn't find any poisons, but refused to say with the love potions, a fact that deeply disturbed Harry.), checked everything else for any other sort of spells such as tracking charms or curses (She found none).

She _didn't_ tell him what had happened with his wand, merely saying "The Headmaster will explain later. You'll just have to wait until then."

When she left, she also forgot to mention that there was an invisible barrier that started just before the privacy screens that he couldn't pass. This left him here, bored. He'd already finished off the breakfast and had decided to indulge in some sweets, being trapped and having nothing better to do.

He was about to tear into a pack of Cauldron Cakes, when a familiar figure slipped in from behind the screen. Dumbledore lip's curved upward in a smile. "Hello Harry, I trust you are feeling well?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, I do. Sir, what happened with my wand?" He asked quickly

Dumbledore seemed to find that incredibly amusing. "Really, Harry." He chuckled. "I haven't even sat down yet. Be patient."

Harry nodded, feeling slightly ashamed. _'I don't know why'_ He thought. _'But I feel oddly naked without my wand…'_

"What happened with your wand, Harry, was something I haven't seen in all my years. But I would like to discuss something else first. Something of less importance, but greater urgency, if you would please indulge on the whims of an old man."

"Sorry." Harry apologized. "It's just without my wand I feel kind of…. Naked sir."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Naked, you say?"

"Vulnerable. Exposed. I don't quite know how to explain it sir."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "Understandable. After situations where one's life is at risk, it is not uncommon for one to find solace in the protection offered by having one's wand. I suggest that you relax for now Harry, as there is nothing that can be done about it."

Dumbledore clasped his hand together. "Now, then, I have come across a house elf in need of a master. Seeing as neither I nor Hogwarts require the services of another house elf, would _you_ be willing to take this elf into your service?"

Harry blinked. "House elf? What house elf? And just why does a house elf need to be working for someone? Can't they just be free?"

"House elves are special creatures Harry. They have sort of symbiotic relationship with wizardkind. They must be bonded with a master. When a house elf bonds with a master, they focus their magic on him, so that whenever their master calls, they will hear him and be able to know his location so that they may be able to perform their own special type of apparition to get to him. Without something to focus their magic on, their magic will slowly drive a house elf insane. It is for this reason that whenever a house elf is freed by its master, it is advisable for it to find a new one, and quickly too. As for who the house elf is, I believe you are familiar with the house elf formerly employed by Malfoy's, named Dobby?"

"Dobby?!" At hearing his name, Dobby appeared with a soft 'pop'. Harry marveled at how much he seemed to have changed. He was wearing what looked to be a brand new white short sleeved shirt and a pair of shorts. Even though he still wasn't wearing shoes, he seemed to stand up straighter, more sure of himself. It was a drastic difference to the shadow of an elf that tried to get him to leave the school.

The Headmaster nodded. "Yes Dobby." Turning to the house elf, he said "Dobby, why don't you go down to the kitchens and get one of the elves there to show you around the school?" Dobby nodded, again disappearing with a 'pop'.

"Professor-"

"Harry, before you ask, yes, I am aware of the history you have with Dobby. Do not be so harsh in your judging of Dobby. Misguided though it may have been, everything he did to you was him trying to save you from a terrible fate." Dumbledore stated. "As his master, you could give him orders. Perhaps you could order him to never try to save your life again, if that is what you are so worried about?"

'_He makes a good point…'_ Harry thought grudgingly. Up until this point, Harry had only seen 'Dumbledore, the Headmaster/Grandfather figure. Now, he believed he was seeing 'Dumbledore, the Politician'. The politician who could get people to agree with him by using mere words. Harry sighed in defeat. "Just how do I take Dobby into my service anyway?"

"Just call him back here and formally ask him if he would like to enter your service. That's it."

Harry sat down. _'Really, there's not really any down sides… or none that I know about… Meh, what the hell?'_ "Dobby?"

Dobby reappeared next to the still seated Dumbledore. "Yes, Mr. Harry Potter sir?" He said, appearing hopeful.

Harry swallowed, looking to Dumbledore. Dumbledore gave an encouraging smile and nodded for him to continue. Harry cleared his throat. "House elf Dobby, would you like to enter into my service?" Dobby stared at him. "Dobby?" Dobby started swaying and promptly fell on the floor, out cold. Harry looked to the perplexed Dumbledore. "Sir? Is this supposed to happen?"

Dumbledore just slowly shook his head. "No Harry, it is not."

After waking the over excited house elf, they sealed the bond with a simple flash of light. Then Harry gave Dobby his first set of orders.

"First things first. Don't call me 'Master Potter', 'Master Harry', or any variant of it that contains the word 'Master'. Just call me Harry."

Dobby had tears in his eyes. "Harry Potter sir is too kind. Allowing Dobby to call Harry Potter sir by his first name!"

Harry sighed. _'Well, I guess calling me "Harry Potter sir" is better than calling me "Master". Even if it is a mouthful, I'll probably be unable to get anything better.'_ He thought for second, before deciding on another order. "Second and one of the most important is that you are forbidden to punish yourself in any way, shape, or form." He held up a hand to stop Dobby's protest. "That is nonnegotiable. If you believe that you have done something to warrant you being punished, then you will come to me and tell me about it. Since whatever you did to warrant being punished will most likely involve me, if I decide that you deserve punishment then we will go to a third party and let them decide on an appropriate punishment."

Dobby let out a cry and wrapped his skinny arms around his leg in a hug. Harry patted Dobby's back awkwardly, making the elf cry even harder. Gently, Harry put a finger under Dobby's chin and lifted his head up. Looking into Dobby's eyes, he said "And the last order, at least for now, is the most important Follow it above all else. This order is to _never_ try to save my life again"

"But Harry Potter sir, Dobby must-"Dobby protested, only to be interrupted.

"Dobby, my life is my own." Harry replied in a firm, yet gentle voice. "Let _me_ fight my own battles. You can help when I ask you to help, as I most likely will. But otherwise, if I don't ask you to help, then that means that I either have everything in hand or there is nothing you can do. Ok?"

Dobby sniffled and nodded hesitatingly. Harry smiled. "Good. Now then, as my house elf, can you access my Gringotts trust fund vault if you have my key?"

Dobby nodded. "Yes. As Harry Potter sirs elf, Dobby can access any vault Harry Potter sir have's access to with Harry Potter sirs permission, as long as Dobby has Harry Potter sirs corresponding key or otherwise to the vault sir."

Harry nodded. "Good. The key to my trust fund vault is in my trunk. I want you to go get it, and then go to Gringotts. Go into my trust fund vault and get enough Galleons to get yourself a few things better to wear other than that dirty pillowcase from Madam Malkins. After you do that, come back here and resume your tour of Hogwarts from where it left off. When you're done with that, come find me, ok?"

Dobby nodded, disappearing with a quiet pop.

Harry turned to Dumbledore, giving him a pointed look of impatience. The Headmaster merely chuckled at the look.

"As much as I'm sure that you would like to know what befell your wand…" Dumbledore began, earning another pointed glare. "… The truth is that I'm not really the one to explain it." Harry blinked in surprise, earning a smile from the Headmaster. "Really Harry, I'm not all knowing, thought I'm flattered by the assumption. But no, I am very much human. I make mistakes, just like anybody else, though mine do much more damage though…" Dumbledore seemed to lose himself in his thoughts for a second, before shaking his head and resumed talking. "The truth is that, though I like to think I know more than most, I have studied very little into wandlore and what I did study was not in the area that this pertains to. I fear that any attempt I make to explain it will only confuse you and likely me as well."

"Then who will…?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm having an expert brought in. Meanwhile, there is the conundrum of your new status that must be solved."

Harry raised an eyebrow, confused. "What sort of conundrum?"

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harry, while there is no law in place to require anyone to tell the Ministry of Magic about what has occurred to you, the fact remains that you are different from other students, in ways that may never become fully clear. As of this moment, the only ones who know of what has happened to you are Fawkes, Poppy, and me.

"Harry, you are still relatively new to the magical world. You are unaware of the way people who are… different are treated. If the truth of what you are gets out, some people will not like you. They will think you are beneath them, because you are different. Many will hate you. Many more will fear you, because you are different.

"Because of this, I think it would be prudent to, at least for now, keep it secret, only telling a select few."

Harry frowned. "But sir, what about my new look?"

Dumbledore just waved an arm at him. "I can put a glamour on you and anchor to an object on you, so that it will always be active as long as you're wearing whatever I anchor it too. It will hide everything except your increase in height and the fact that you're slightly less skinny than before. Those changes can be explained by you receiving treatment for malnutrition, which you will be by the way."

Harry frowned. "Malnourishment? Sure I'm skinny and a little short, but I'm not malnourished… am I?"

Dumbledore gave a frustrated sigh. _'One of these days Harry is going to tell me something I didn't know about his childhood with the Dursley's and I am going to end up burning Number 4 Privet Drive to the ground… with all of the Dursley's in it. Honestly, I probably don't want to know how they managed to convince him that being that skinny and short was normal for a boy his age'_ "Harry, both of your parents were rather tall for their age and, quite frankly, there is an alarming number of first year students who are taller than you. Disregarding that, when you first came to Hogwarts, you looked like a strong breeze might knock you over you were so thin."

Harry just shrugged, unsure of what to say, prompting Dumbledore to continue. In a gentle voice, he said "You haven't told anyone about your past with the Dursley's… have you?"

Silence was his only answer. Dumbledore sighed, feeling his old age pressing down on him more in that one moment than he ever had before. "It helps to talk about these things you know. You've no reason to be ashamed of your experiences with the Dursley's. Nobody will judge you. I, myself, am proud you, of the person you've become. Most would be twisted and dark by your experiences, but you came out as a good person. Better than most, according to my own observations."

More silence.

Dumbledore sighed heavily again, heart going out to boy in front of him. In his mind, he was cursing the Dursley's in every way imaginable. "I'm not going to force you to talk about if you don't want to." He leaned forward, taking Harry hand's in his. "Do know that at any point in the summer, if you ever feel like talking, I am just an owl away. Even during the school year, all you need to do is to tell Minerva you need to speak with me, ok?"

Harry slowly looked up. Then he nodded, feeling a little better. "Thank you sir." He said, so quietly Dumbledore nearly missed it.

Dumbledore smiled, releasing his hand and patting him on the back. "Anytime my boy and I mean that. Now then, back to what we were discussing. When you are released from the infirmary, which is likely to be later today, she will put you on a regime of potions designed to correct the damage malnutrition has done to your body."

Harry nodded. "Who are the select few you think we should tell?"

"The Heads of House will need to know, other teachers as needed, and perhaps two others"

Harry eyes darkened. "Don't tell Snape." He said immediately

"_Professor_ Snape Harry, _Professor_. I can understand that you may not like the man, but please respect the position he holds." Remanded Dumbledore gently.

"The position? _The position_? How can I respect a position he has if he doesn't even fulfill the _requirements_ of his position?" Harry did his best not to yell at the Headmaster, but it came out yelling a little at the end.

Dumbledore fixed Harry with a look. "And just _what_ requirements, pray tell, does he require? He is a qualified Potions Master. His knowledge on Potions, and to a lesser extent Herbology, rivals that of my old master, Nicolas Flamel who as you know is a Master Alchemist. He is more than qualified to teach Potions at any level. If anything, we are lucky that he didn't open his own Apothecary or take an apprentice. Instead, he chose to teach, a respected and taxing position that pays less than those other positions I named."

"How about the requirement of _impartiality to his students_?!" Harry yelled, frustrated with the situation. He took a second to calm down, and then continued speaking, still louder and angrier than need, but no longer yelling. "He is completely biased toward his own house, and hates Gryffindor's with a passion for no more reason than what house they are in. He _especially_ targets _me_ out all the other Gryffindor's. I can remember my first Potion's class; he asked me questions about stuff that he only ever mentioned, _vaguely_ I might add, at the very end of the year! And then he has the absolute _gall_ to call Hermione a know-it-all when she actually _does_ know the answers to his questions! Every time I walk in Potion's class, I get to hear all about how my father, a man I can't even _remember_ and know next to nothing about, was a good for nothing troublemaker, and how I'm just like him! And that's when he's being kind!

"He makes a mockery of the House point system! It's nothing short of amazing that Gryffindor has _any_ points left after a single Potions class with Slytherin. Hell, its amazing Slytherin has room to even _get_ any more points after a Potion's class. He ignores it whenever a Slytherin does something wrong, but he notices every little thing, every little mistake any Gryffindor, especially me, makes. I haven't even seen him _ever_ even take point's from Slytherin, forget detention. Hell, as much as Professor Mcgonagall likes for Gryffindor to win the house cup, she's the first to take points and assign detention _to her own house_!

"For all his knowledge, he doesn't seem able to half answer any questions whenever a Gryffindor asks. But a Slytherin can ask the same question and he's quick to give a _speech_ on the topic." Harry took a breath, having finally worked most of his anger at Snape out of his system. "The man hates me, Professor. He hates Gryffindor's, just because they are Gryffindor's, but he hates _me_ especially, and likely my father as well. I don't even know why, but I'm not telling him about how I'm different. It'll just give him more ammunition to insult me with. Hell, I wouldn't put it past him to let it slip just to spite me."

Dumbledore rubbed his eyes wearily, expression sorrowful. "I'm sorry Harry, truly I am. I am… aware somewhat of Severus's distaste of Gryffindor, but I had no idea it went that far. Even more, I did not know that he was that way to you." Dumbledore's eyes hardened. "I will speak to Severus immediately about his behavior, count on that." His eyes gleamed. "But you needn't worry about. _Any_ teacher or otherwise that is told will be sworn to secrecy on subject. Severus wouldn't be able to tell anyone about you, no matter how much he might want to."

Harry frowned, but slowly nodded. "That's ok, I guess. Who are the other two you want to?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Before I tell you who they are, do you not want to tell your friends about this? I had the idea that you were very close."

Harry frowned. _'Do I want to them to know?'_ He could still remember how Ron had reacted to learning he was a Parseltongue. The fearful glances, how he seemed to be hesitant to turn his back to him. How he could sometimes feel Ron's eyes following him. He never called Ron on it, because it hurt more than he could imagine. Hermione wasn't much better. She easily got obsessed when she learned he was a Parseltongue. She immediately went to the library to learn everything that she could about the magical ability. The people who didn't know before knew then when they watched the bookworm that he was a Parseltongue. He honestly didn't know just how well she could restrain herself from finding out _everything_ that she could on it if she told him a little. He loved Hermione like sister he never had and Ron was easily his brother in all but blood, but he knew that this was on the list of a few things that he couldn't even tell his best friends about, right up there with the Dursley's treatment of him. "No. Not right away at least." He paused, seeing Dumbledore's perplexed look. "I'm still kind of coming to terms with this myself." He said by explanation. "I'd rather not tell anyone that I don't have to…yet."

Dumbledore nodded, accepting that explanation. "Understandable. As for the two, telling them is not set in stone." He paused; looking conflicted about something, before asking "Harry, do you trust me?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes sir." He replied just as slowly.

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, do you know why you are only just now receiving treatment for malnourishment?" Harry shook his head. "It's because treatment would've have caused you to grow and get a good bit bigger, enough that they would've noticed. Before, I feared how they would react. With you not being in their good graces, they might have taken as threatening for you to go off to a magical school and come back different. Now though, your changes are noticeable no matter what. You're getting treatment because I have a plan for you to spend as little time as possible there in order to maintain the blood wards. The plan involves two people who are going to have to know about you. The thing is that they have yet to decide whether or not they want to take part in the plan. If they decide that they are, then we tell them."

"Who are they?"

"I'm afraid that have requested to keep their identities secret and I have consented. Fear not, you will find out if they agree to my plan."

Harry frowned slightly at that, but said nothing more.

A moment later, Madam Pomfrey poked her head in, a frustrated look on her face. "Albus, Mr. Ollivander has arrived to see Mr. Potter."

Harry blinked. "Ollivander?"

Dumbledore sat up. "That's my cue to leave, I'm afraid."

Harry gave a concerned look. "You can't stay?" He asked, feeling small for asking. As strange as Dumbledore was, Ollivander was way stranger.

Dumbledore gave a sad smile. "I have other things to attend to, I'm afraid. Fear not, you are in safe hands with Mr. Ollivander."

Dumbledore slipped out behind the screens and not a minute later there was the white-haired wizened wand-maker himself, an unreadable expression on his face. Held gently in his hands was a black box. And inside that box, sitting on a purple velvet pillow, was his wand.

Harry reached out to grab it, only for Ollivander to move the box out of his reach. "I don't think that is a good idea Mr. Potter." He looked down his spectacles at the young hybrid wizard. "You don't want a repeat of what happened yesterday, do you?"

Harry blinked. "What exactly happened yesterday, Mr. Ollivander?"

"And a polite 'Hello' to you too Mr. Potter." Ollivander replied, listlessly. The way his thin lips curved upward in a smile told him he wasn't offended though. "To understand what happened and what must be done about it, first you must possess a more… through knowledge on wands. I trust you remember when I told you that it was the wand that chose the wizard, not the other way around?"

Harry furrowed his brow, and then slowly nodded.

"When it comes to wands…" Ollivander began. "… There are different kinds, but really only two different methods to creating wands of any type. There are wands made, on a whim, to different specifications each. Whatever appropriate wand wood, any usable magical core, and to whatever length feels right to top it, as a start." Ollivander looked at him. "This is the most used method in the entire magical world."

"Why?" Harry couldn't help but blurt out. But Ollivander didn't seem to mind the interruption. Indeed, his eyes took on a gleam at the question, as if excited at the parting of information.

"The 'Why' has a bit of history behind it, if you'd be so patient?" Asked Ollivander. Harry nodded. "Good. The reason why this method is used is because it's tradition, mostly. It dates back when there weren't really official wand-makers, way back since the start of recorded history. In those times, wizards had no one to go to in order to get a wand. So they had to make one for themselves."

Ollivander raised a hand and pointed his index finger at him. "The problem laid in the fact that in those times there was no 'Statue of Secrecy'. Wizard's were mistrusted, hated, and generally discriminated against. Given that muggles did, do, and always will outnumber wizard kind by an alarming majority, there was little they could do about it in those days. At the end of the day the only jobs that a magical could be sure was available to them back in those days were that of a battle mage, a healer, spies, assassins, and an extremely small amount of others. And those were only available to the incredibly skilled and powerful, people who were born with a sharp mind and instinctive grasp on their magic or lucky enough to apprentice themselves to a master."

Ollivander sat down in the chair that the Headmaster had sat in earlier, still holding the box that held his wand. "Which meant that almost all wizards back then were incredibly poor. They didn't have the money to set out and buy whatever they. So they had to make it out of whatever they had laying around. These wands, if one can call such crude barely magical sticks wands, had none of the sentience of today's wands in that they do not chose their wizards.

"As the decades rolled by and wizards gained a greater understanding wands, the process was refined. Wand-making as a career became available, and soon had a boom in interest. People began competing to see who could create the best wands. This eventually led to the creation of today's wands that possessed a sense of sentience. Wand-making lost interest after that, because today's almost sentient wands were the absolute best, but they would only work at their top level for the wizard they chose."

Ollivander shook his head in disgust. "Wand-making primarily remains the same as it did ages ago out of respect of 'tradition' in doing it the same way as our great ancestors did, but also because the other method is relatively new in comparison. The fact that it's not so cheap doesn't help either."

"What is this new method then?" Harry asked curiously.

Ollivander chuckled at his curiosity. "This new method entails using a method to discover _exactly_ what a wand needs to be like to best 'fit' a wizard. Determine what wand wood(s) to use, what core, or in some cases _cores_, to use, even down to how long it should be. In essence, it is the process of _making_ a wand to match a wizard."

"What's this got to do with me?"

"Everything." Ollivander answered. "You see, what happened with your wand was incredibly rare, although given your changes not entirely unexpected."

"H—H-How did you know about how I changed?"

"Harry please, right now they are as plain as the nose on your face." Ollivander chuckled again. "I'm old, but I'm not blind. Fear not; I won't breathe a word to anyone about it."

Harry felt his cheeks redden, embarrassed at having been so stupid, but pushed past it. "So you were saying?"

"The problem lays in the fact that the young wizard that was accepted by this wand…" Ollivander pointed at his wand in the box. "…And the young wizard who rests in hospital bed before me are different. Your wand can tell the difference. It can tell that you are not the wizard that picked it up and was accepted by it that day in my shop."

Harry blinked. "It can?" Ollivander nodded. "Bloody hell, that's amazing."

Ollivander shook his head. "What is truly amazing is the fact that your wand can tell that you are its old master. It recognizes that you are its old master, but it can tell that you are different now. And because of that difference, you are no longer as compatible as you once were. When faced with such a quandary about what to do, it does the only thing it can. It attempts to change itself in order to become fully compatible with you once more. But, like all things, that requires energy. Wands cannot store energy. So it takes the energy from the one place it can."

"Where?" Harry asked.

Ollivander pointed a long, bony finger straight at Harry's chest. "You, Mr. Potter. You were the only one holding it, so it was from you that it took the energy to change itself. However, you would run out of energy and pass out every time you touched it and not get anywhere with it trying to change itself. A wand does not have the capability to use your magic to change itself."

Harry frowned. "If it can't change itself, then why is it trying?"

"Why indeed?" Ollivander replied rhetorically. "Today's wands are complex at a level almost beyond imagining. Why they occasionally do the strange phenomenon that they do may never be fully understood. But back to what I was saying. It might not be able to do it itself, but it was right in sense that you have changed, thus it must change."

"What exactly are you saying Mr. Ollivander?" Harry questioned.

"I am saying that we must merge the old with the new in relation to your wand in order for it to be matched to you completely once more." The old wand-maker answered.

"…I'm afraid I'm not following you Mr. Ollivander."

The white haired wand-maker sighed. "We must use the new method of making a wand to match a certain wizard to change your wand to match you."

Harry nodded slowly. "I think I get it." He paused, thinking. "What do you need me to do?"

Ollivander cleared his throat, withdrawing from within the folds of his a blue gem a few sizes smaller than a fist. It had two golden bands wrapped around it and was covered in runes. The entire thing glowed with a soft blue light. Ollivander held it out to him. "Please take this in your hands, if you would."

Slowly, Harry grasped the gem in his hands. It was warm to the touch and the glow brightened in response to his hands. Ollivander nodded in satisfaction. To his surprise, Ollivander picked up his wand from where it laid. Bringing it forward, Ollivander quickly tapped the gem in his hands twice with his wand. In response, the glow from the gem brightened so much he had to look away for a few minutes.

Looking back, he found that Ollivander had put his hand on the gem, studying it intently. Brandishing Harry's wand again, he touched it to the top of the gem and slowly brought it back, a silvery, wisp-like strand hooked on the end of his wand as it came out of the gem. As he drew Harry's wand back, the bright, sun-like glow of the gem dimmed. When was fully out, the glow was back to normal and now there was a long, glowing, wispy, strand hanging from the end of his wand.

Ollivander's other hand disappeared into his robes again and came out holding a vial. Slowly, he lowered the string into the vial, runes lighting up on the sides of the vial in the process. He shook his wand lightly, knocking off the end and corked the end.

The string had taken the appearance of a silvery liquid. Ollivander shook it lightly, a small smile coming to his face. He placed the vial in his pocket, then took the gem from his hands and put it in his robes. Putting his wand back in its place in the box, he put the lid on the box, shrunk it, and placed it in his pocket. "Well, then Mr. Potter." Exclaimed Ollivander. "I believe that is all that I require from you at this time. I will owl you later when we might set up a meeting to finish your wand." He got up to leave, pausing when he caught sight of the basilisk fang, still sitting on the bedside table. He raised an eyebrow at it. Pointing one gnarled finger at it, he asked "Is that a basilisk fang, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded slowly, unsure what the wand-maker would think of him having one, a memento of his time in the Chamber, not that he thought he would ever forget. He also wondered just how the old wand-maker was able to recognize it by sight.

Ollivander nodded. "That's what I thought." He paused. "If you would please, could you bring that fang with you when you visit, as well as some venom from the basilisk from whence it came, if you could?" Harry nodded; bring a smile from the old wand-maker's face. "Excellent. Simply Excellent."

Ollivander turned to leave, only to be stopped by Harry calling out to him. "Wait!" Turning, the wizened wizard raised a bushy eyebrow. "What am I supposed to use as a replacement wand? I still have a few weeks of school to go, and I need a wand for my schoolwork until school ends."

A frown marred the old man's face as he thought, mumbling under his breath too low for Harry to hear about possible solutions. At last, he nodded to himself. "I'll speak with Albus on it on my way out, Mr. Potter. I'm sure we can arrange at some solution."

Ollivander disappeared behind the screen, leaving Harry alone once more. Like magic, Pomfrey appeared within minutes of Ollivander's departure. She took away the remains of his breakfast, looked him over to ensure he hadn't somehow come to harm.

After a few diagnostic spells, she informed him that, while he wouldn't be allowed out of his little 'area' for lunch given the fact that the Headmaster wouldn't have the glamour ready in time, he would be allowed to attend dinner in the Great Hall with everybody else on the promise that he returned to the Hospital Wing immediately after for one more night of observation, to be released from the Hospital Wing. She also let him know that lunch would still be in a couple of hours away. He asked what he was supposed to do for a few hours. She responded that he would just have to entertain himself and left.

Harry sighed, lying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Then he leaned over and grabbed the sheet containing his information that was lying on the bedside table. He stared at it blankly, eyes already going over information he already knew. From a book Hermione had coerced him into reading late last year about magical objects that were fairly commonplace in the magical world that muggle-raised witches and wizards needed to know about, he knew what was in his hands was called a medsheet. When created, a medsheet was attuned to and filled with medical information that the creator thought relevant. It could only be updated with a freshly drop of blood from the attuned and a tap from a wand.

From what little he knew, it was impossible to create one without the consent of the to-be-attuned. From what he knew, Pomfrey would be required by law to destroy it if he so wished her to do so. She would have to rip it to shreds and burn it with fire so hot there'd be no ashes. There'd be nothing left. Gone, vanished.

Like it never happened. Like he hadn't been changed.

Briefly, Harry wondered if he could do it. Walk around under a glamour for the rest of his life. He could get the glamour anchored to something that could be fixed so that it couldn't ever be taken off and get somebody to Obliviate this entire experience from his mind. Briefly, Harry wondered if he could get himself to live a lie. He considered it briefly.

But only briefly.

As easy as it would be to live a lie, it wasn't something Harry could go through with doing. When a giant of a man walked in, called Harry a wizard, and offered him a chance to join an amazing new world, full of opportunity, Harry took it. All of his life up until that point, he felt that he was different from the others around him. The Dursley's didn't need to tell him he was different from them, he could feel it. When Hagrid told him he was a wizard, it was the last piece of the puzzle.

Harry didn't shed away from the truth then and, ultimately, his life got better, if more dangerous and complicated.

Harry sighed, mind made up. Taking the medsheet in his hands, he gently folded it up into a neat little square and slipped it into the pocket of his shorts. He rested his hands behind his back and closed his eyes, deciding he'd try to nap until dinner time.

**End Chapter**

**AN1: These will be explained later**

**AN2: I'd like to say here and now that I do not like Ron. I don't bash any character on principal, but it's walking a fine line where Ron's concerned.**

**Review!**


	3. It's Her Fault

**Little shorter than usual, only 8,000 words instead of my preferred 10,000.**

**Question: Would you prefer short chapters for quicker updates or long chapters for slow updates?**

**Chapter 3: It's Her Fault**

Harry was roused from his slumber by a quiet crack and a flash, accompanied by a gush of hot air. He groaned, shifting in his bed as he felt a weight settle on him at the top of chest.

"_Quit shifting, you troublesome human_."

The words echoed in his head, in a clear feminine voice. But he didn't know how he knew that. There was no sound and the tone was one of irritation. If asked later, he would only be able to identify that the speaker was female and sounded irritated.

Out of sheer shock at the words, he froze, becoming stiff as a board. "_That's better_." The voice spoke again, sounding pleased.

Feeling something moving around in his hair was the final straw. Jerking back, he hastily shifted into a sitting position in the bed, earning a squawk of protest as he suddenly felt the weight on his chest disappear.

He opened his eyes to see a very familiar bird hovering in the air before him. "Fawkes's?" _'Is it just me, or does she almost look… annoyed?'_

"_Who else could I be you dolt_?"

Harry blinked at the words and looked around. _'No one else here… Aw hell, stranger things have happened.'_ "Is that you?"

"_Is that me what_? _What are you blathering on about_?"

Harry frowned. "Speaking inside my head. Is that you speaking inside my head?"

"_What are you talking about…?_" The voice that he suspected was Fawkes trailed off, only to pick back up. "_Wait. Can you hear this_?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Fawkes alighted on his leg, cocking her head curiously. "_Interesting_. _But I'd like to test it to confirm that you can indeed hear my thoughts. So, if you can hear me, raise your arm and hold it there for me to alight on at the count of three_."

Harry nodded. "_One, two, three_!" Harry raised his arm on command and Fawkes flew through the air and alighted on it. She fluttered her wings, looking excited. "_Well, it seems you can understand the thoughts of amazing phoenixes, such as myself_. _Congratulations_." She said sarcastically.

Harry rolled his eyes at the sarcasm, but responded anyways. "Thanks… I think."

"_You're welcome_." Fawkes shifted on his arm and Harry noticed for the first time that the talons on her feet were digging into his bare arm rather deeply. What really disturbed him was the fact that he just now noticed.

Reaching forward with his other arm, he felt the tips Fawkes's talons, pressing his finger against it. _'Sharp… Why didn't I notice before?'_ Unbidden, the answer to his question came to the forefront of his mind. _'Extremely small scales that mimic almost all qualities of regular human skin save that as more resistant to damage of both magic and mundane origins…'_

Harry looked away from it quickly, doing his best to banish those thoughts from his mind.

Fawkes shifted again. Harry winced, disturbed at the lack of pain, knowing from his experiences with Hedwig that talons like Fawkes's on bare skin should hurt. Seeing his wince, and thinking it was from pain, Fawkes said/thought "_Sorry_."

Harry blinked. "Don't be. It… It actually doesn't hurt that much."

Fawkes shuffled forward on his arm so that she was standing on his shoulder. Again, he felt something poking around in his hair. He shook his head in an attempt to ward it off, earning a squawk of annoyance. "Just what exactly are you doing in my hair?"

"_Feathers_."

Harry frowned in confusion. "What?"

"_It would be 'Just what exactly are you doing in my feathers'_." Corrected Fawkes briskly. "_You don't have hair anymore_."

"Alright." Harry said slowly, mind spinning at how easily he'd forgotten. "What are you doing to my… feathers?"

"_Preening_."

Harry blinked, surprised. "Preening?"

The poking in his hair—feathers, he was forced to remind himself—stopped momentarily. "_Yes, preening_."

Harry resisted the urge to rub his temples, feeling that the action would disturb the phoenix picking around in his hair. Instead, he just groaned. "Ok, I'll bite." He drawled, knowing he'd probably regret asking. "Why are you preening my hair?"

For some reason, after he asked that question, he got the distinct feeling that Fawkes was rolling her eyes at him. "_Preening is the avian equivalent for human's cleaning their hair_." She said slowly, as if talking to a small child. "_Even though it may look, for the most part, like hair, you do not have hair anymore. You have feathers and as such they require preening instead of cleaning. Seeing as your changes left you unequipped to do so yourself I thought I would_."

"Well… Thanks, I think." Harry said, feeling slightly embarrassed for some reason.

"_You're welcome."_ Fawkes replied irritably.

Harry sat there in the bed awkwardly, trying to ignore the strange feeling of a phoenix poking around in what used to be his hair.

After a minute or two Fawkes said "_Finished for now. But unless you want your feathers to become a mess, I'll come back in a couple of days if that's agreeable to you?_"

He nodded. Fawkes hopped back to his former place on his arm, looking at him with curious eyes.

"What?" Harry asked in response to the staring. "Why are you staring at me?"

"_You know, for a self aware being of reasonable intelligence, you're pretty weird_." Fawkes thought to him bluntly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How so? Other than the fact that I'm now some sort of hybrid nameless species of course."

"_Well_…" Fawkes began. "_For starters, do you even realize how many people would kill for the chance to talk to a phoenix like this_?"

Harry frowned. "Why? No offense, but you're not exactly a conversationalist. At least, not from what I've seen so far."

Fawkes just seemed to roll her eyes at that. "_Not for conversation. Information._" She cocked her head at him. "_You do realize phoenixes are immortal right? As in I couldn't die even if I wanted to? As in I've been alive so long that I couldn't even give you a number on the centuries?_"

"Yeah… So, what's your point?"

Fawkes just stared at him blankly, stunned. "_So you honestly don't care that I could tell you all about how much things have changed since a time before your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparents were even a thought in their parent's heads?'_"

"Sorry that I'm not that into history I guess." He answered apologetically.

"_Understandable, I guess_." Fawkes looked away. "_Don't take this the wrong way, but whether you're magical or not, humans have short lives and even shorter memories_." Fawkes shook her head and looked back at him. "_Rather tragic really. I've watched human's slaughter each other for one, rather stupid, reason, then see 'the light', so to speak, and stop. Centuries later, you're back at it again, killing again for the same idiotic reason as before_."

Harry frowned. "If you see this happening, then why not try and stop it?"

Fawkes shuffled forward to be on his shoulder and cuffed him with her wing. "_And just how the bloody hell would I do that? As of yet, you're the only one that I can actually communicate with. Familiar bonds are the only way that I can communicate at all with anyone who's not like you and they can only convey so much_."

Harry frowned. "Familiar bonds?"

Fawkes rolled her eyes again. "_Are you allergic to learning or something?_" Harry just shrugged sheepishly. "_Guess I can't blame you. Familiar bonds are one of those obscure things where you really have to learn about them on your own from a book or something. It's not taught in school either, for some retarded reason._" Fawkes shuffled off of his shoulder back to his still raised arm and looked at him. "_Basically, a Familiar bond can form under two circumstances. The first is when a person and what you would consider to be an animal spend long amounts of time in each other's presence. In this instance, it forms slowly over time. The second is when what you'd consider an animal forms it on their own intentionally, for whatever a reason. This causes it to form near instantly over the next few days."_

Harry nodded slowly. "What are they exactly though? What do they do?" He asked.

"_If you're asking the why or how they form, then you're out of luck._" Fawkes answered unhelpfully."_There's a lot of theories floating around about the how and why and I never bothered learning them. What they do however is much simpler._" Fawkes shuffled in place. "_They cause, among other things, understanding between the bonded."_

"Understanding?"

Fawkes nodded. "_Yes, understanding. A person's familiars will be able to sort of understand what they are trying to tell him and likewise, but it's limited and rather hard to put to words. It's also beyond difficult to do anything other than simplistic messages. I can create one and use it to communicate with others, but not to the extent that is necessary to stop all the idiocy in this world_."

Harry sighed, his mind doing his best to assimilate the newfound knowledge, before he spotted a hole in her explanation. "You said 'among other things' earlier. What other things?"

Fawkes shrugged, an odd, strange action to see on a bird. "_Statically speaking, bonded animals live longer and are more resistant for disease for one. The animal will also always know where their bonded are in relation to themselves._ _Certain species gain their own special skills as another, such as owls knowing where their bonded will end up when they go traveling before they do and arriving early, as an example._"

Harry nodded in understanding, wondering briefly if he had such a bond with Hedwig.

Pomfrey came in after that, bearing lunch, making Harry wonder just how long he had managed to sleep. Fawkes, instead of leaving as he expected, decided to stay and moved back to his shoulder so that he could use both arms to eat unhindered. When he asked why, she gave the mental equivalence of a shrug and merely said she had nothing better to do.

**Line Break**

Dumbledore left the infirmary, acknowledging an introspective Ollivander with a polite inclination of his head and a "Hello." He walked at a brisk pace, heading straight for his office. He had taken longer than he had anticipated talking with Harry and really was late to a meeting that could very possibly seal the deal to his uncharacteristically risky summer plans. Plans that were really a shot in the dark, and could very easily backfire on him rather spectacularly. However risky they were, they were necessary. On the outside, Harry _appeared_ to be handling the news that he was no longer a member of the human race quite well. But Dumbledore wasn't a Master Legillimens for nothing.

Incredibly unethical though it may be to use any form of Legilimency on students, Dumbledore considered it a necessary evil. It was a practice he had adopted, to use a noninvasive form of Legilimency that scanned surface thoughts on not only students, but all of those whose minds were unprotected and could not feel his mental probe. Considering all the potential tragedies he had averted simply by scanning the thoughts of those around him and what they planned to do, and then setting events in motion to stop them, he had no trouble sleeping at night because of that. What truly troubled him was when he wondered if he would have been able to avert Tom Riddle from his path to becoming the monster known as Voldemort if he had merely scanned his thoughts, seen what he planned to do, and stopped him dead in his tracks while he was still a student.

Never the less, when he looked into Harry's eyes and into his mind, he saw the inner turmoil that boiled just beneath the surface. Such an inner conflict was cancerous. Left unattended, he feared it would fester and grow just beneath the surface. The volatile environment of #4 Privet Drive would only aid this growth, unfortunately, and then there was the fact that the Dursley's themselves wouldn't take his changes with a grain of salt. Thus, Dumbledore had carefully weighed his options. On one hand, he could have continued as planned and sent Harry to the Dursley's for yet another summer, hoping for the best in the process.

A plan that was discounted and thrown out from the very start. There were just too many uncontrollable possibilities and factors that could come from that for the old manipulator's comfort.

Which resulted in him thinking deeply on how he might modify it to work once more. Of course, it wasn't that hard, having years of experience in the art. The only hitch was that he had to call in a favor that he just happened to be saving for a rainy day and even then it wasn't a sure thing yet, as well as causing him to alter many of his other plans in regards to the young Potter heir.

He arrived at his office late anyway despite having used several of the secret passages in an attempt to make good time in getting there. Looking around, he was thankful that his associate seemed to be running even later than he was. Sitting down at his desk, he set to work on the much put off paperwork to pass the time for his associate to arrive.

Working diligently, filling out various forms and papers, he set them down in the stack of completed paperwork. As he was working however, he noticed a strange phenomenon. The stack of completed paperwork got smaller each time he looked at it, while the stack of paperwork he had yet to do seemed to grow exponentially. Still, he acted like he hadn't noticed and continued working quietly.

After five minutes he got tired of writing. Setting down his quill and picking up his wand, he cast two spells. One to reveal whether or not there were any charms or enchantments on his desk, all the paperwork on it, and the surrounding items, the second one to locate and identify any possible entities beside himself inside his office. Both came up negative.

Dumbledore sighed. "There is only one person in the entire world that can bypass both the wards of Hogwarts and my own personal wards at the same time to get into my office without setting off a single security spell. Only one person who can then enchant my desk with such a clever yet frustrating spell designed to make the effected believe that they are not making any progress with their paperwork, then hide the existence of both the spell and themselves well enough to evade my notice, save for the effects of the spell."

The air shimmered in front of his as a man appeared. He had the young appearance of a man in his late 20's, early 30's with wavy brown hair and warm brown eyes twinkling with mischief. He was wearing a rather fancy set of long flowing wizard robes, purple with a golden trim, and various different symbols stitched all over in glowing silver. He smirked at him. "Serves you right for being late Brian. Is your memory going in your old age, or something?"

Albus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Please. If old age is going to get to anyone, it's you. I may be old, but you're absolutely ancient by comparison."

His friend did roll his eyes. "Whatever." Walking forward, an ornate, cushioned and comfortable chair appeared in front of Dumbledore's desk with a wave of his friend's hand. He sat in it, adopting a comfortable position. Gesturing to the still shrinking/growing stacks of completed/not completed paper, he said "I'm just glad it worked correctly. There's always a very good chance when testing a new enchantment like this that instead of working it just turns the enchanted item into a _very_ big magical bomb that detonates instead of working."

It spoke volumes to their relationship that Dumbledore wasn't alarmed at the statement that his associate just said. Instead, he smiled. "Well, I'm very glad you did not turn my desk into a bomb that would kill me when I sat down. As curious I am about what happens after death, I have far too much to do before I go on the next great adventure."

It was a joke, and they both knew it. Even as his friend pulled out his wand to cancel the charm, Albus could feel it as the temporary protective wards his friend had raised to contain any possible explosions were revealed, then lowered. Returning his wand to the folds of his robes, he scoffed. "Typical Brian." He shook his head. "Not worried at all about dying, but the thought of your schemes being derailed can keep you up at night."

"Considering my 'schemes', as you call them, may very well determine the fate of the Wizarding World, I'd say I have ample reason to worry." Dumbledore replied blithely.

His friend snorted. "Perhaps, but personally I've always felt you make your plans and execute them more for the control aspect than anything else." He leaned forward. "Which is why when you came to me with this new plan of yours and asked for my assistance with it, I became curious." He looked Dumbledore in his eyes. "I'm aware of how your plans generally go, so I find myself wondering just how you were pushed into a plan which you lose a great deal of the control you value so much and never really gain it back, not even mentioning how easily this can backfire on you now and in the years to come."

"Perhaps someday I will explain it to you." Dumbledore said tiredly, not really wanting to get into the specifics. "Regardless, I'd say how it is that we are at this point matters little. What does matter is how we proceed from here so I'll get straight to the point. Have you thought about what we last talked about?"

His friend frowned. "I'll hold you to it that promise you know." He leaned back, face becoming a mask of indifference. "And I have. I've talked to my wife about it as well. I had to do some arguing on your behalf, had to create an agreement to add in a few details with my wife, but in the end she agreed to your proposal."

Dumbledore frowned. "A few details?"

His friend waved his head dismissively. "Nothing major, no real changes to you plan except a few minor additions. In short, nothing you need worry about."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "So I take it I have your approval as well then?"

His friend shook his head. "You misunderstand me. I convinced and obtained her approval, but you've yet to earn mine."

Albus raised an eyebrow. "Then why obtain it?"

Albus received a shrug with his friend's answer. "It wasn't that hard, as she wasn't really against the idea per say, but she informed me of a few conditions that would have to be met should I agree. I would've needed her approval to approve it myself anyway, so I agreed."

Albus leaned back in his chair and nodded nodded. "I see." Albus spread his arms. "What must I do to convince you? This is the only route I see at this moment to proceed. Perhaps later that will change but for now it is."

His friend raised his arm, pointing at him. "And that's one point right there." His glare hardened. "You should know that I don't do anything by half if I can help it. If I agree to this, there's no pulling him out later if you're not pleased with the results or if you have found a different path."

"What if he wants out on his own?" Albus asked with a raised eyebrow.

His friend snorted. "In the unlikely event that he arrives at the conclusion that he wants out _on his own_, then I will allow him to do so." He leveled a glare at the Headmaster. "However, you should know that if his decision to leave is the result of your manipulations, then I will fight to keep him should I agree."

"That's understandable." Albus said. "Again, however, I ask: what can I say to convince you?"

A chuckle was his only answer. "Well, you can start by sharing with me that prophecy you heard a few years back that's had you so out of sorts ever since. Maybe then I might understand why this one brat is so much more special than all the other brats."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Other than how he survived the Killing Curse when he was still a baby, cast by one of the most powerful wizards to come out of Hogwarts in a long time? Not to mention the fact that said wizard regrettably has a lot of experience casting the curse itself, as well as the fact that the curse itself was then somehow reflected back onto the wizard itself, destroying his body?"

His friend rolled his eyes again. "Like I'm not familiar with sacrificial blood-based foe-specific protective magic. Try again, this time leading with the prophecy."

"Have you forgotten so easily the events of his first year?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Which part? The part where he becomes the so called youngest Seeker in a century?" His friend asked rhetorically. "Because, in my opinion, that's way more impressive than getting past traps that any average third year, or second year Ravenclaw for that matter, could get past. Or using those blood wards to defeat a sub-par wizard weakened by a spirit draining its energy and cursed by drinking unicorn blood." His friend shook his head. "No matter which one you're talking about, the most impressive one to me is his apparent skill on a broom, and that in itself isn't enough."

Albus frowned. "How about the fact that he slew a thousand-year-old basilisk this year then? And not just any basilisk, but Slytherin's own?"

His friend frowned. "Is the boy a Parseltongue?"

Albus nodded. "Yes, but he didn't use his gift to speak the language of the serpents to defeat the basilisk, as it was already under the control of another Parseltongue at the time."

His friend's frown deepened. "What did he use to kill it then?"

Albus sighed. "He used Gryffindor's Sword." He admitted.

His friend grinned triumphantly. "Ah, I see then." He nodded his head still smiling. "I was beginning to suspect as much. Killing a basilisk like that magically would be beyond a student of any year, and all but the most powerful of wizards." He shook his head, still smiling. "But using a fine goblin-made sword like Gryffindor's? I'll admit that it'd be incredibly tricky to get close because of a basilisk's killing stare, but anyone who has decent upper body strength and quick feet could do it." His friend cocked his head to the side, studying the expression on the Headmaster's face. "Are you going to tell this prophecy now that your attempts to get out of telling me have failed, or are we going to dance around the issue some more?"

Albus sighed again. "I'll tell you as long as you swear to me that you will tell nobody its contents without my express permission."

His friend shook his head. "No deal. If the prophecy concerns this brat, then shouldn't he have the right to know it as well?"

"He does have the right to know it." Albus agreed. "And one day he shall, but at the moment I feel that he is too young to carry the weight of the prophecy."

"Too young for you to tell him a prophecy, but not too young for you to allow him to face mad dark wizards, basilisks, and Merlin knows what else in just two years?"

"I didn't allow him to face anything as of yet." Albus said with a frown. "Events spiraled out of my control, which ended in him facing them."

"Typical Brian." His friend shook his head. "Blaming things on the events themselves going out of your control, rather than yourself."

"What exactly do you want me to say?" Dumbledore asked, patience thinning. He stood up from his desk, glaring at the sitting man opposite him. "Do you want me to say that I made some mistakes, and an innocent boy paid the price for them? That the reason Harry Potter was put in the Hospital Wing to recover from his ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets, an ordeal that will leave him changed _forever_, is that I, the great Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, made a mistake?!" Albus sighed, took his half moon spectacles off, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Then the answer would be yes, I did." Albus sat back down, energy depleted. Putting his spectacles back on, he slumped in defeat. "I have made so many mistakes regarding Harry." He shook his head. "Each and every time, I try to do the right thing, and it ends up backfiring. I could handle it if it punished me, but it doesn't. He pays the price for an old man's mistakes." Albus shook his head, and then looked up straight into his friends eyes. "I'm trying to do the right thing here in regards to Harry." Albus's eyes turned pleading and desperate. "I'm trying, but I can't do it now without your help."

A steady silence interjected between the pair, each deep in thought. Then…

"He's going to end up hating you, you know. If you've mad as many mistakes as you say and they hurt him, then he's going to hate you."

Albus looked up at the voice of his friend, expression sad. "I know. And the sad fact of the matter is that I wouldn't blame him."

His friend then chuckled. "And he quite possibly will end up hating me as well if he learns that I knew that the prophecy existed and didn't tell him."

"Am I to take that to mean that you will do it?" Albus asked, hopeful.

"You're to take that to mean that I've decided to meet the boy before deciding."

"At the risk of making a mistake, I have to ask: What happened to wanting to know the prophecy?"

His friend sighed. "It's probably best that I don't know it. I'm not near as good at keeping secrets as you. Odds are that if you told me what it entailed and I took the boy in, I'd end up telling him at one point or another."

Albus nodded. "Fair enough. When do you plan to meet with Harry?"

His friend smiled mysteriously. "Oh, soon enough." And with those words, he slowly phased out of existence.

Albus couldn't resist rolling his eyes at the display.

**Line Break**

Harry stared at the plain silver ring lying in the Headmaster's open palm. It was absolutely and utterly unremarkable in every imaginable way. The entire thing was colored a dull silver color that was neither reflective nor shiny. It was bare of any blemishes such as scratches, dings, or discolorations. Strangely enough, the lack of any wear on the ring gave it some sort of dead appearance. Like it was one of the rings that never got sold and just sat at the back of the jewelry store forever gathering dust.

Still sitting on his shoulder, Fawkes was remaining oddly quiet. Almost like the phoenix was holding his breath at the scene.

Albus smiled at him and gestured for him to take it.

Taking it from Dumbledore, he found that it was oddly rather warm to the touch. He looked up at Dumbledore, eyebrow raised.

Dumbledore smiled charmingly, eyes twinkling. It hadn't exactly been an easy endeavor, creating a glamour and anchoring it to the ring for Harry's specific use. Glamour's in terms of popularity were almost a lost art because of the level of difficulty using them, as well as the fact that couldn't hide things like changes in height or build. In this particular case, first Dumbledore had to create a perfect image of Harry's appearance before his changes, a task difficult in itself as he had to basically paint a picture of Harry's _complete_ appearance, not just his face.

After that, he then had to ensure that his picture then had an added factor of change to mimic how Harry's appearance would change with age and malnutrition treatment. Then, in order for it to be effective, he had to use the most powerful concealing charms that he knew in order to hide the existence of the glamour itself. And last, but not least, he had to set it so that the glamour would attune itself to the young hybrid as soon as he put the ring on his finger, so that only he, and Dumbledore as it's creator, would be capable of using it. He also cast and then hide several more charms and spells that were _not_ essential to the process of creating a usable glamour. But Harry didn't need to know about those.

The entire process itself was both complex and tiring, but he managed to do it. All that was left was for Harry to put it on his finger, let the glamour 'settle', and he'd be set.

Harry, at Dumbledore's direction, slowly slid the ring onto his middle finger on his left hand. It was too big. Dumbledore tapped the ring twice with his wand, causing it to shrink to the right size.

Harry held up a hand mirror expectantly, only to be disappointed by the still unfamiliar face that stared back at him.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Twist the ring to the right two times, then back to the left once." Harry followed his instructions to the letter, again looking back into the mirror and again being disappointed. Then Dumbledore tapped the ring again and Harry experienced the most uncomfortable sensation he'd ever felt.

It was like something incredibly cold, wet, and slimy was suddenly covering every inch of his skin. It squirmed and wiggled against him and he felt whatever it was shifting into place, fitting as tightly as a glove yet nowhere near as comfortable. He shuddered and paid for it when he felt whatever it was move in response a few seconds later.

Seeing the uncomfortable expression on his face, Dumbledore said "Be still. Let the glamour settle. It'll only take a few moments."

Those few moments seemed to take a life time. In those moments, any movement at all made him feel like he was moving through the vilest of sludge's.

Slowly though, the feeling faded. The sliminess that it felt like he was engulfed in faded almost completely. Almost. It had changed mostly from sliminess, to an uncomfortable sensation. Like he just couldn't get comfortable in his own skin.

He instantly decided that he didn't like it. Dumbledore levitated a mirror to his face and that feeling lessened somewhat at seeing a familiar face staring back at him.

Dumbledore chuckled and waved his wand over the ring on his hand, causing it to vanish. "If you want to take it off, concentrate and it will appear so that you can do so. The glamour itself will stay active as long as you have on the ring. It will grow with you and remain the perfect size."

Harry looked down at where the ring was. He couldn't see it, but he could still feel that it was there. He could also feel the same uncomfortable sensation, like he couldn't get comfortable in his own skin. He looked back at Professor Dumbledore. "Thank you Professor."

Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling. "Anytime. Now then, there are just two more things that need to be settled and you'll be free to attend dinner in the Great Hall."

**Line Break**

Harry walked into the Great Hall for dinner early, going straight for Gryffindor table. The table itself was sparse, save for a few students dotted here or there. Harry took his seat quietly and began eating rather quickly, knowing that he'd be busy answering questions later so he had to eat while he could.

He wasn't wrong as he heard a girlish squeal and felt something impact into his left side moments later, his vision being filled with bushy brown hair with arms wrapped around his torso tightly.

"Harry!" Squealed the bushy brown hair. "You're all right!"

"Keep squeezing him like that Hermione and he won't be." Said a familiar teasing voice as he felt someone sit down on his other side.

Hermione's death grip loosened and hesitantly let go. "Sorry." She apologized, blushing slightly in embarrassment.

"It's alright." Harry replied as she sat down at his other side. He pushed his glasses back into place on his face from where Hermione had knocked them aside. Dumbledore had replaced the lens of his glasses with plain glass, enchanted so that they couldn't be summoned, unbreakable, and maintenance to keep them clean and free of scratches. Pomfrey had provided him a set of school robes to wear, seeing as all of his old clothes no longer fit

"How have you been mate? Dumbledore wouldn't tell us anything." Ron asked. "All he kept saying was that you'd be fine."

"I was a little worse for wear earlier, but I'm fine now." Harry replied, hoping his smile didn't look as forced as it was. "Most of the time I was there was for observation mostly. Make sure I really was alright you see."

"Why didn't they allow you to have any visitors?" Hermione asked/demanded, giving him a strange look. "Ron and I both asked several times, but they never let me past the screens."

"Beats me." Harry shrugged indifferently. "All I know is that they brought me breakfast, lunch, and dinner in that little area. Even had Madam Pomfrey cast some sort of spell on me so I didn't leave the bed to go to the bathroom."

"Just what were you doing in there for so long?" Hermione asked. "Were they running some sort of tests on you or something?"

"Slept mostly." Harry admitted easily. At least that was close to the truth. "And Madam Pomfrey did come in every now and then to cast some diagnostic spells on me, but that was it."

"Just what happened after we separated in the Chamber mate?" Ron asked. "Ginny says she doesn't remember anything except waking up in the Hospital Wing."

Harry sighed. "After we separated and I went through a second Parseltongue password door, I found your sister, unconscious, with a person who called himself Tom Marvolo Riddle. He told me that he was some sort of memory, bound to that diary Ginny had."

"Bound to the diary?" Hermione repeated in disbelief.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Turns out Tom Marvolo Riddle is Voldemort's real name." Harry observed their shocked faces and decided to continue before they could interrupt. "He took my wand and set the basilisk on me. He did something to the thing so that it'd only obey him or something. I ended up having to play a high-stakes game of cat and mouse with it, with me as the mouse. It fortunate that Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, came carrying the Sorting Hat and clawed the basilisk's eyes out when it did."

"Why'd it come carrying the sorting hat? Did Dumbledore send it or something?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't know. Never asked. Anyway at that point I pulled Gryffindor's Sword out of the Sorting Hat-"

"Hang on." Ron interrupted. "Did you just say you pulled Gryffindor's Sword-_Godric_ _Gryffindor's_ Sword-out of the Sorting Hat? What the bloody hell was it doing in there in the first place?"

"Ron! Language." Hermione chastened, hitting him in the back of the head, earning a yell of pain from the redhead

"The sword wasn't in there per say. I was near where the Hat was lying and it just appeared sticking out of the Hat. I just drew it from the Hat." Harry answered truthfully, tacking that onto the growing list of things to ask Dumbledore when he had the chance. "Anyway to summarize, I stabbed the basilisk with the bloody Sword, got a basilisk fang stabbed into my arm and broken off into it. Used the broken off fang to stab the bloody diary to destroy the memory of Tom Riddle. After that I woke up in the Hospital Wing with Dumbledore standing over me."

"How the bloody hell-"Hermione started to scream, only for Harry to firmly clamp a hand over her mouth.

"Keep your voice _down_." Harry hissed. "I'd really rather not advertise this stuff."

Hermione nodded and Harry slowly removed his hand from her mouth. She didn't speak right away. Instead, she took a few calming breaths. "Harry?" She called out in a deceptively calm voice.

"Yes?" Harry asked, amused slightly.

Hermione took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. "How did you manage to survive the most deadly naturally occurring venom in the world, of which there is not anti-venom or antidote?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't." Hermione's face instantly from calm to outraged by his lack of an answer in milliseconds. Harry quickly cut her off with another hand covering her mouth at the sight. "Look, Dumbledore told me that Fawkes cried into the wound and, thanks to the healing powers of phoenix tears, it bought me enough time so that he and Pomfrey could used some incredibly advanced spells to draw the venom out of me before it _killed_ me." Harry took his hand off her mouth, doing his best to look sincere. Keeping his changes secret would require selling this story good enough to fool the ever brilliant and observant, if naïve, Hermione Granger. After all, if he could fool someone as smart as her, then fooling Ron would be a piece of cake. "I survived it just long enough to be free of it and even then Dumbledore and Pomfrey both told me it was _extremely_ touch and go."

"I see…" Hermione seemed to be lost in thought, and then refocused on the marvel that was Ron shoveling food into his mouth at high speeds. "Honestly Ron! It's not going anywhere."

Harry smiled as Hermione start berating Ron for eating fast and Ron defended himself, mouth still full of food. Talk then shifted from Harry to Ron's bad eating habits and table manners, something Harry was immensely thankful for, and continued that way until dinner ended.

Dinner ended just a few moments ago, leading Harry to pull a small corked vial out of his pocket. He uncorked it and downed it in one quick gulp. Pomfrey had pressed the vial into his hands as he was leaving, telling him that it was the Cure for Malnutrition, and would fill up before every meal and to drink it after he was done eating. He pulled out his new-ish wand and tapped it twice, causing it to glow blue briefly, also an action she told him to take after he drank it to let it know to fill back up.

He took a second to admire his new-ish wand. It was 12 ½ inches long, made of Beech wood with the heartstrings of a centuries old Ukrainian Ironbelly. Dumbledore had presented it to him after altering his glasses to have plain glass lens. He didn't say where it had come from, merely that its previous owner no longer needed it and that it should serve as a usable replacement wand until his was repaired.

"What was that?" Of course Hermione would notice.

"Hmm?" Harry asked, pretending to be oblivious. Hopefully she'd let it go if he played stupid.

"That potion you just took. And where'd you get that wand Harry? That's not yours." Hermione pressed, relentless.

Harry sighed. "When I stabbed the diary and destroyed Riddle, he was still holding my wand. His destruction actually damaged my wand somewhat. Professor Dumbledore gave me this wand to use while mine is getting repaired. As for the potion…" At this, Harry looked away. "It's a cure for malnutrition. Pomfrey said she noticed signs of it in me last year and decided it was time for me to take something for it. I'd… I'd rather not talk about it."

Hermione patted his back sympathetically. "I understand. If you change your mind, I'll be in the library, catching up on all the school work I've missed." She poked him in his shoulder, giving him a look. "You should probably do the same."

Harry rolled his eyes. _'Only Hermione could switch to the topic of schoolwork so suddenly.'_ He thought, amused as he got up from the table to head back to the Hospital Wing. "Harry, a word mate?" Looking back, he saw a nervous Ron standing there.

He nodded in ascension and followed the redhead into a nearby abandoned classroom.

"Look… What you did for Ginny..." Ron began, rubbing the back of his head, a universal sign of nervousness. "Just wanted to tell you that…"

Harry put a hand on his best mate's shoulder. "Anytime. Really Ron, I know you'd do the same for me if our positions were switched. Don't worry about it."

Ron nodded; grateful Harry had understood what he was trying to say. It went without saying he wasn't the best at expressing emotion. Gesturing to where Harry had been going he asked "Where are you going? The Gryffindor Common Room is in the other direction."

"Madam Pomfrey wants me to spend one more night in the Hospital Wing under observation. Make sure I'm really all right." Harry answered truthfully.

Ron looked him over. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Why does it seem like you're suddenly a bit… bigger?" Ron asked hesitantly.

Harry blinked. He'd thought Hermione would be the one to notice, not Ron. _'Then again, maybe she did notice and just connected it to the effects of the cure.'_ "Pomfrey decided to start me on a potion regime designed to cure the malnutrition I apparently have."

"Blood hell." Ron shook head. "Malnutrition? I knew you said your relatives were bad, but I didn't think it was that bad." Ron looked him over again. "You all right there mate?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?" Ron gave him a look. "You know you can all ways stay at the Burrow for the summer if you need to. Mum would be more than happy to have you, the twins too."

"I'm good." Harry answered. "Really, though, thanks for the offer." Harry shrugged. "And who knows? Maybe I can visit the Burrow near the end of the summer."

"Maybe." Ron agreed

"How's Ginny?"

"Fine. Came out of the Chamber with nothing except magical exhaustion. Except… well..."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Well…" Ron obviously wasn't comfortable telling Harry. "She's lost her memory." He finally blurted out.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Lost her memory?" He echoed.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, and not just a little bit of it either."

"What does she remember?"

Ron shook his head. "Barely anything. The furthest back she can remember is way, way back, walking into Flourish and Blotts our last visit in Diagon Alley. After that, nothing. Total blank up until she woke up in the infirmary, or so she says."

"You don't believe her?" Harry asked.

"No I believe her it's just… It's unreal, to lose that much time." Ron looked up. "Just kind of hard to believe, you know?"

Harry nodded. "I know what you mean. What are they going to do?"

"Not much they can do." Ron answered. "I mean, Dumbledore talked about getting the teachers to tutor her during the summer at the Burrow to make up for lost time and all that, but there's not really much more they can do beyond that."

Harry grimaced. "Well, you know what that means, right?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Harry smirked. "That means that our very own favorite Potions Master gets to make visits at the Burrow this summer."

Ron looked completely horrified at the thought. Harry fell over laughing at his expression.

**Line Break**

Harry was slowly walking, not looking forward to going back to the prison that was known as the Hospital Wing. After recovering from the laughing fit induced by Ron's comical face brought on at the thought of Severus Snape visiting the Burrow as well as surviving the youngest male Weasley retribution at laughing at him, he said goodbye at a still fuming Ron and left the unused classroom to go back to the Hospital Wing, hopefully for the last time.

"Harry."

Harry turned at the female voice behind him, biting back a sigh at the sight of the youngest Weasley approaching him. Every interaction he'd ever had with the youngest Weasley had been awkward, often ending with the girl losing her confidence and running off. It was clear why, especially after an accidental slip of the tongue from Ron confirmed that Ginny Weasley had a childhood crush on him. She wasn't the only one. Many of the first years were skittish around him, boys and girls. _'Except Collin Creevery.'_ He thought, biting back another sigh. He wished Collin was shy, instead of flashing a camera in his face every five seconds.

He did his best to school a look of calmness, hoping it might have the effect of calming down the nervous redhead. "Yes?"

Ginny met his eyes for a few minutes, then blushed and looked away shyly. "I don't remember, but they told me that you saved me." She said in a low voice that he barely heard

It wasn't a question, yet Harry nodded anyway. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Apparently it was, as Ginny found the courage to continue. "I just wanted to say thank you." She paused, biting her lower lip. "For saving me."

Harry plastered a small smile on his face and forced it to stay. "Anytime." He eyed her. _'Other than looking tired and a little pale, she came out of the Chamber unscathed.'_ He thought, unable to help the bitterness that welled up in his heart.

She nodded her head, accepting his statement, but also making no motion to leave. Instead she stood there, staring at him a little too openly.

Harry cleared his throat. "So you lost your memories?" She nodded. "All of them?" He pressed.

"Well not all of them…" She trailed off, looking away. He cleared his throat, prompting her to continue. "I…. I get flashbacks every now and then. Fragments. A thought, a sound, pieces of a memory come back to me. Nothing complete but…"

"But…. What?" Harry pressed, a small part of him feeling vindicated in her discomfort.

"It's… It's my fault." She said quietly, and then it was like a dam burst as tears suddenly started flowing from her eyes. "It's my fault. It… That damn diary controlled me! Made me write those… _horrible_ things on the wall. Made open the Chamber and set the basilisk on all those people." She shook her head, her long red hair whipping around wildly as a result. "I… I over Pomfrey and Dumbledore. You know what they said?" Harry had only just shaken his head before she continued, voice borderline hysterical. "They… They said how lucky it was nobody was _killed!_" Ginny leaned against the nearby wall and slide down it to sit on the floor, crying.

Harry stared at the young, hysterically crying redheaded girl sitting on the floor and leaning on the wall before him. It was strange. Presented with such a scene should have invoked _some_ sort of emotion in him. Sympathy, perhaps. But it didn't. As Harry sat down next to the girl to comfort her, more out of some sort of misplaced male urge to comfort crying females, he felt oddly apathetic to the entire thing. As if he was just 'going through the motions' or watching the scene on TV instead of living through it. Even when she turned and buried her face into his shoulder, still crying, he still felt nothing, save annoyance at the tears stains she was putting in his borrowed robes.

Harry stared at the opposite wall, finally beginning to feel something about the whole situation of holding a crying girl in his arms. But it wasn't the emotion he expected to feel. Instead of sympathy, he felt annoyance. Annoyance at the mess she was making on her shirt. Resentment. Harry would've laughed if it didn't feel so wrong. _'She loses her memories, I lose my humanity.'_ He thought, marveling at how much bitterness that thought invoke in him for the crying girl in his arms. Anger. Anger at the crying girl in his arms. _'She just said it. It's __her__ fault. She let the diary control her.'_ He thought, reeling at the sheer volume of anger that welled up inside of.

It felt wrong. Wrong and powerful. He quickly bit down on the emotions, wrestling down the feelings of annoyance, resentment, and anger as he whispered comforting words into Ginny's ear.

**End Chapter**

**I think the above text should make it apparent but I'll come out and say it for the slower among you anyway: This is NOT a Harry/Ginny. I don't have the pairings quite worked out yet, but that is one thing that I've settled on. I'm also leaning AGAINST a Harry/Hermione pairing at the moment, but that's open to argument.**

**Let me know what you guys and gals think on that and who's Dumbles friend is.**


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